The Man in the Elevator
by MountainTop76
Summary: Bella lives for her morning elevator ride, and the sexy stranger she shares it with, but what will happen one night when she works late? Contest entry for the Control. Possess. Seduce. Contest.
1. Chapter 1

This was my entry for the Control, Possess, Seduce competition. I was absolutely thrilled when it won 1st place in the public vote and also was Lolypop82's Graphic Designer choice. Thank you to everyone who reviewed the original OS and voted for me. As a new and inexperienced writer you can't imagine how amazed and humbled I was to read your kind words. The story was whipped into shape for the contest by Robfansteinpire and Alice's White Rabbit who helped me to stop being too British and to work out exactly where I do and don't need commas.

I was also thrilled when the wonderfully talented Jennifer Jennings made me a lovely banner. Thank you so much.

 **Summary** : Bella lives for her morning elevator ride, and the sexy stranger she shares it with, but what will happen one night when she works late? **  
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No copyright infringement is intended.

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 **Chapter 1**

"Fuck!" I scream at the departing back of the bus. I've arrived at the bus stop, panting and sweaty, just as it pulls out. I yelled, I ran—something I never do, especially not in these heels—but it wasn't enough. It left without me.

Rationally, I know this isn't a big deal. Another will be along in twelve minutes. I won't be late for work. I always arrive early, usually being the first in our department.

But it means I will miss _him_. Over the past few weeks that I've been working at Cullen Masen Holdings I've got arriving at the same time as _him_ down to a fine art. I soon learned he was a very punctual, predictable person. If I'm standing outside elevator three at precisely 8:07, I am almost guaranteed to share my ride up to the 21st floor with him. I say _with_ him. He stands there sending messages or talking on his phone, and I stand there trying to watch him out the corner of my eye.

But today, I'm going to be late. By twelve minutes. Even if I run from the bus stop to the CMH building, I'll only be able to make up two to three minutes at most.

The next bus arrives, a full two minutes late. I climb on, my shoulders slumped. My morning elevator ride is the highlight of my day. My job at CMH is not what you would call action-packed and exciting. But it's a job, and a well-paying one with prospects. I know I'm currently on the lowest rung of the ladder, so data crunching for projects I know nothing about is the best I can hope for, but in the future, I fully anticipate leading some of these projects that so desperately need my numbers.

I get off the bus, and I decide there is no point in rushing. Fourteen minutes late may as well be ninety. Make that seventeen now. It seems there is slightly heavier traffic with the somewhat later start making the bus journey take that little bit longer. I've missed him. He's never late. Certainly not by seventeen minutes.

Habit still leads me to wait outside elevator three. It's currently at the basement level, collecting those workers who arrive by car and are lucky enough to have a space in the underground parking lot. Like he does. My head is down, and I'm being jostled a little. The reception area is certainly busier at this time.

I look up as the familiar ping alerts me to the arrival of the elevator and straight into the greenest eyes I've ever seen. _His_ eyes. They lock briefly with mine before darting back to his ever present cell phone. I'm momentarily stunned. Not only is he here, even though I am, I glance at my watch, 18 minutes late now. But he almost registered my existence. This is monumental. I don't have long to contemplate this development before I'm pushed, rather unceremoniously, forward by the multitude of eager workers behind me. I end up standing right in front of him. I can almost feel the heat of his body behind me. His now familiar scent wafts forward before being overpowered by the body odor of the overweight, nylon-wearing, balding man in front of me. I lean back slightly to get away from BO man, until I feel a slight resistance. Shit, I mustn't rub up against him. That would be highly inappropriate.

The already packed elevator stops at the second floor, and there are another three people waiting to get on. And no one gets off. We are all pushed farther back to make room. Now I really am inappropriately close to him. I can feel his chest rise and fall. His breath is making my hair move at the top of my head. I can hear the click of his phone as he continues to message whomever is on the other end. I think about those fingers, so long and agile, and my own breathing picks up. I imagine his breath against my neck, his chest pushed against mine as those fingers go to work on me.

The door closes and the elevator jerks suddenly as it starts to move. The man with personal hygiene issues jostles back into me, and I start to fall sideways, but a strong hand grasps me, pulling me back upright and back against his chest. Is it my imagination or has his breathing picked up also? We are so close, and his hand is still gripping my waist. He's making no move to let me go, even though I'm now stable. He's still tapping away on his phone with his other hand. What can be so important? I shift slightly, making sure I have a firm footing, and I hear and feel him take in a sharp breath. Then I feel it. Hard against my lower back. Fuck me. The things I could do with that. My thighs rub together, and my ass moves without me giving it any conscious thought, pushing back against him and rubbing. His fingers pause briefly on his keypad. He seems to be as affected by this as I am.

The elevator stops again, letting some off, including BO man in front of me, and only one additional passenger embarks. There is now slightly more room, but I make no effort to move forward, away from the warmth of his body.

Then he gets bolder, obviously finding my actions an invitation to take things further. The hand on my waist loosens its grip, and the long fingers spread out, stretching around toward my stomach. Then I feel them start to move down, over my hip, down to my thigh. I'm wearing my shit-hot little black skirt today. The one I know hugs my ass and ends just long enough to be work appropriate. Now I realize it is just short enough for his fingers to explore my legs below the hem.

He caresses my skin, sending shivers up my body. I find myself leaning back against him more, my hips moving slightly from side to side. Then his thumb rubs up under the hem of my skirt at the back. I ache for him to move his hand higher. To explore more of what is waiting for him under my skirt, at the apex of my thighs. I'm hungry for him. I want more. I need more.

He is just reaching the prize, his thumb discovering, through the thin material of my underwear, just how wet I am for him, when the elevator stops again, and I realize, almost too late, that this is my floor. As the ping sounds, his hand disappears. Does he know my floor? I hear him clear his throat, and I realize I need to move. I have to get off. I leap forward suddenly, pushing my way forward. As I exit the doors, I glance back as they close and, once again, piercing green eyes meet mine, full of lust and desire, before they are lost, and I find myself looking at my own lust-filled expression in the elevator's mirrored doors.

Shit, what was that? I shake my head to clear it. Did I really just let _him_ grope me in the elevator while I rubbed my ass up against him? This has been a fantasy of mine since I saw him on my first morning. Well, maybe not exactly that, but I've certainly entertained many different scenarios involving his long fingers and what lies under my skirt. I also won't deny I've woken up many times from dreams that involved him and me in that elevator, but I'm not the sort of person to do that in real life. I don't even know his name. All I know about him is he works for the same company as me. On a higher floor. Most of what's above us is marketing and then the executive floors. I imagine him putting together marketing campaigns, meeting with creatives, making decisions, and managing teams.

I shake my head and turn around to make my way to my cubicle. I have a busy day ahead of me. Yesterday, while crunching some numbers for a recent merger, I came across a few discrepancies I need to bring to my boss Victoria's attention. I'm hoping it's nothing serious. I've probably just dropped a number somewhere, or failed to account for something, but I was struggling to find my error yesterday, and I need to bring her more experienced head into this.

I'd sent her the file in question yesterday, and I hope she's had a chance to look at it. We have a meeting set up for ten, and before I go in, I decide to look at a few other files for other recent projects.

As I work, I find myself frequently distracted by daydreams that take this morning's elevator ride further. The things I imagine that man's fingers, and tongue, and other body parts, doing to me would make a porn star blush. Despite this, by the time of my meeting, I've pulled together and cross-referenced several projects, and something is starting to look off. The discrepancies are small and could easily be missed, but when you look across a number of projects, they start to add up. I'm beginning to wonder if I've stumbled across something.

"Come in, Bella," Victoria warmly greats me, her wavy red hair cascading over her shoulders. "How can I help you?"

I've found Victoria really friendly and helpful since starting at CMH. She has shown me the ropes, guiding me though the office politics at the same time as she guided me though the computer systems. "Did you get a chance to look at the files I sent you on the MacFergerson merger?"

She gives me a sheepish, guilty look. "Sorry, Bella. I've been snowed under. Could you take me through it now?"

I smile. I'd not really expected her to read it all and take it all in, and I'm more than happy to talk her through my findings. I open up the file on my laptop, and she moves around her desk to look over my shoulder as I bring up spreadsheets of numbers.

"That's funny," I say, "I'm sure that number was smaller yesterday. I added it to the raw profit data, and I got a number that didn't match this one on the project file." I bring up another document. However, today, the numbers seem to match perfectly. Strange.

"I'm sorry, Victoria. The numbers seem to add up today." I'm apologetic. I obviously made a mistake.

"That's not a problem, Bella. Sometimes, when you look at these numbers too long, you start to see things that aren't there. It happens to us all. I'd rather you alerted me to these things than worry about them."

She smiles at me, alleviating some of my embarrassment. I'd gone over the numbers yesterday until my head spun, and I can't believe I got it wrong, but I really should have rechecked the numbers in the cold light of day before bringing them to her. Then I remember the other files I've been looking at. This one may have been a mistake, but the bigger picture is still there. I know there is something wrong, even if I'm not sure what it is yet.

I start to tell Victoria about what I've been looking at. She indulges me for a while but then starts to look at her watch.

"I'm sorry, Bella, but I have a meeting with James." James is her boss, the head of our department. "Look, I'm sure this is nothing, but I promise I'll take a look at it. In the meantime, Mike Newton from Mergers has been onto me. Apparently, he needs you to have these numbers finished, like yesterday, and now that we've cleared up this issue, I really need you to get them to him as soon as possible. Then we have the Elliot project for Jessica Stanley. That woman will be tearing me a new one if we don't have her numbers to her by the close of day, and I really don't have the time to work on them, what with my meeting with James." She smiles at me, apologetically, for the work she is dumping on me. This is certainly going to keep me busy.

I go back to my desk and put the files I've been working on to one side and concentrate on crunching the numbers for Mike and Jessica. It takes me the rest of the day, but I get the files off just after five, and I sit back with a sigh. I've had my head down all afternoon, my only real break being when Victoria came to see me about the problems I'd found. She explained how she'd brought the issue up with James. At first glance, he didn't think it was anything too worrying, just some data entry issues, probably. But she assured me James would get to the bottom of it. She said he would be personally looking into it, so I didn't need to worry about it anymore.

But worry I did. For some reason my mind failed to drop the issue. At times, my job could be on the monotonous, tedious side, allowing parts of my brain time to wander. Usually, it wandered to images of green eyes, and, as you'd expect, today was certainly no exception there. But today, it also wandered to the figures I'd been looking at. I knew Victoria and James saw my concerns as trivial, but I had this nagging feeling there was more to it than the surface data suggested. There seemed to be a pattern developing, and I was keen to see how far it went. Victoria left about 10 minutes ago, so there is nothing to stop me now. No one can protest that I'm working on this in my own time. Unless they have something to hide.

"You coming?" asks my friend Angela as she passes my cubicle on the way out.

"Not yet," I reply. "There's something I need to do first."

"Do you want me to wait?" she asks.

"No, thanks," I reassure her. "I won't be long, then I'll get the bus home."

Angela waves as she heads for the elevators. As I watch her leave my mind goes back to this morning's encounter. I still struggle to believe it actually happened. I certainly don't know what to make of it. What do I do tomorrow morning? Should I come in late to avoid him? If he is there should I stand near him, or avoid contact? If I stand near him is he likely to do it again? Do I want him to do it again? The reaction of my body as I think about it lets me know _it_ at least would like more.

I shake my head and pull my mind back to the job at hand. I know they'd asked me to drop it, but I also know it's going to bug me until I get to the bottom of this. So, as my co-workers start to file out the office, I start to do what I do best. Number crunch. I pull out file after file, comparing numbers within and across projects. I start to tally up the discrepancies. If these are all real, then money is disappearing off the balance sheet. Just a little here, a little there. Each time, such a small amount it looks like a minor error when viewed on its own. But this is a big company, with many projects. When taken as a whole, the loses add up. They add up to a lot. I'm talking tens of thousands of dollars, potentially hundreds of thousands.

This is big. I then start to look at the pattern of the projects affected. Who'd been involved, who signed off on the numbers, to see if I can spot a correlation. And there is. It is vague and circumstantial, but all projects have been signed off by Victoria. Yesterday, I would have found it hard to believe she was involved, but looking back at how the project I sent to her yesterday was suddenly correct today, and the sudden increase in my workload when I let her know I'd been looking into this, and I start to smell a rat.

Then, there is James. Did she really bring up the problem with him? Maybe he knows nothing about it. I find this hard to believe though. For this to be going on under his nose, he would have to be either really incompetent, signing off on number after number that is off, or complicit.

I continue to investigate, cross-referencing all projects signed off by Victoria against those from other managers. I go back to when Victoria started with the company three years before, pulling up all the data from every project she's worked on. As I work, the pattern becomes clearer to me with each project I look at. The data is not conclusive, but it is heavily implicating. The link to James is even more tenuous, but there are little signs littered here and there that lead me to think he knows this is going on and is either turning a blind eye or is involved up to his eyeballs.

I look up from my work to contemplate what to do with this new knowledge and I notice the clock. Shit, it's late, close to midnight. When I get my teeth into something, I can lose all track of time, and that appears to have happened tonight.

Fuck, I've missed the last bus. By about 2 hours. I'll just have to call for a taxi. I don't fancy walking home at this time of night.

But first, what to do with my findings. I can't confront Victoria; she'll just deny it and find ways to prevent me looking further. James is obviously out. But what about his boss? Caius Volturi, the VP in charge of finance, is also fairly new to the corporation, arriving at a similar time to Victoria. I can't believe someone in his position would be involved. But then, I wouldn't have believed it of Victoria or James either, but the evidence is in black and white before my eyes.

So who can I trust? I can't turn a blind eye to this. My dad is a local cop in the small town where I grew up. He taught me to have a strong moral character. If someone is stealing, because that is exactly what this data suggests, I will feel complicit if I don't do something about it.

Then it occurs to me. The only person I can think of who definitely won't be involved is the same person who will be most interested in hearing someone is embezzling money from the company. The CEO and owner, the elusive Mr. Cullen.

I've never met him personally. He sits in his ivory tower at the top of the building with us mere mortals toiling away beneath him, never deigning to show his face on the floors below. In my short time here, I've heard rumors of people being called to the executive floor for an audience with the reclusive man. Occasionally, rumor has it, the person will be getting congratulated for a job well done, but normally, the opposite is true. The summoning means you have failed in some way. These people, so I've been told, are seen later being escorted from the building by big, burly security guards, never to be seen or heard of again.

It all sounds a little dramatic to me, and nothing of the sort has happened since I've been here. But Angela swears she heard from her predecessor that it happened to a member of their department last year.

I start to put together an email to this mysterious man, wondering if I'm committing career suicide. But then, if I owned a company, I'd want to know if someone was stealing from me, I reason. I highlight my findings in the body of the email, attach my spreadsheet of the compiled data and the most incriminating files, providing links to the others. I know Mr. Cullen probably gets, like, a million emails every day, so I contemplate how to make mine stand out. I go for blunt and to the point and fill the subject line with bold caps: **I HAVE EVIDENCE SOMEONE IS STEALING FROM YOU—PLEASE READ.**

I press send, wondering briefly if anything will come of it, and if it doesn't, what I'll do. Can I still work for Victoria, look her in the eye and continue to treat her as a friend, knowing what I now know?

I give a big sigh and head for the elevators. As I wait for one to arrive, I send a text to my usual go-to taxi firm. A few minutes later, my phone buzzes with the confirmation text that they will be about 15 minutes. Not too long to wait in reception. When the elevator pings its arrival, I look up as the doors open expecting to see an empty car, but instead, I'm met by the same green eyes that met mine this morning. The same eyes that have been invading my thoughts all day.

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AN: This is part one of the original OS. The rest will follow shortly, with some additional parts, before we continue the story from where we left off. I hope you come with me on this journey. It's not all written yet and I do have another story to finish also, and a busy few weeks ahead in RL, so I'm not promising you will get the new stuff straight away, but I promise it is coming.

MT76


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter is all still from the contest entry, so if you want to skip it feel free. I'll let you know when there is new material. Sorry it's taken so long to get this out. It's been a busy few weeks with visitors not allowing me even a moment to sneak off to post. This is only a short one, but I plan on posting chapter 3 tomorrow which should see the end of the material submitted for the contest entry. After that we should be into new and expanded work, but that will be a couple weeks off yet, I'm afraid, as I still have to write it! Oh for more hours in the day, or the ability not to need to sleep.**

 **For those new to this, or those reading it for the second time: enjoy.**

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 **Chapter 2**

 _When the elevator pings its arrival, I look up as the doors open expecting to see an empty car, but instead, I'm met by the same green eyes that met mine this morning. The same eyes that have been invading my thoughts all day._

Holy crap. What is he doing here? It's after midnight by now. Who works this late? Then I realized the irony of that question.

"Coming?" he asks with a sexy smirk and a rise of his eyebrow, and I realized I've just been standing and staring.

"What? Umm … yeah," I stammer incoherently as I step forward. "Are you going down?" I ask as I reach forward to press the button for reception.

"Only if you'll let me," he says in a low seductive voice. My eyes snap up to his.

And I'm captured. I can't look away. I'm vaguely aware of the elevator starting to move. I watch him as he slides his ever-present phone into the pocket of his jacket before bringing up his hand and running his long fingers through his unruly bronze hair. I remember where those fingers were this morning and the effect they had on me. I want them on me again.

This is not me. I'm the sensible girl. I'm not the one who gets seduced by strangers in the elevator. But, boy, I've wanted this man for so long.

Then he's taking a step toward me. I feel my teeth sink into my lower lip. I suddenly feel very hot. His hand comes up to my face, cupping my chin, as his thumb pulls my lip free.

"You have no idea what that look is doing to me right now. That whole big-eyed, innocent expression. But we both know you're not that innocent, don't we? I see the look you try to keep hidden. The look that says 'fuck me now'."

Is that what my face is saying? Am I that readable? Because, shit, if he fucked me now, my life would be complete.

"I know I shouldn't be doing this," he continues, "but, fuck, I want to. I want you, and I'm a man who is used to getting what he wants. Besides, your performance this morning, and the look you're giving me now, leads me to believe you want this as much as I do."

Then he's leaning closer. I can smell his cologne, the one I try to get close enough to smell each and every morning. I can feel his breath against my cheek; the breath that sent shivers down my spine earlier today. I can feel his warmth, but it's not close enough. Not yet.

I watch, captivated as he leans past me and presses the stop button on the elevator panel, and we come to a sudden, jolting halt. I stagger a little, but before I have time to move much, I find myself pushed up hard against the cold, hard metal door, sandwiched between it and an equally hard chest. He must work out.

His lips find my neck. "I've been thinking about kissing you here all day," he murmurs against my skin before his lips start to suck and kiss the delicate flesh. I allow my head to fall to the side, giving him better access, feeling helpless to resist his touch. Then I feel his tongue flick out and lick my skin. The shivers are back. The things I've imagined him doing with that tongue.

There is a vague question in my mind about whether this is appropriate behavior, about what would happen if we were found out. But I'm pretty sure we are the only two people left in the building. The chance of exposure is low. Then his lips are on mine, and any thoughts of being found, of the consequences for my career, go flying from my head. One of his hands is cupping my chin, his long fingers weaving back into my hair as he holds me just where he wants me. The other is running up my thigh as it did this morning. But this time, I'm hoping for more than a quick touch, so much more.

His hand reaches its destination, and I take in a sharp breath. He pulls back again to look me straight in the eye, smirking.

"Fuck, you're as wet as you were this morning. Is it me that does this to you? Is it the thought of my fingers on your body that makes you so wet? Is your body crying out to you to let me fuck you, here, now, in this elevator?" As he talks, he rubs his fingers back and forth, over the material of my underwear. The feeling is intense as he uses just the right amount of pressure to tease me but leave me wanting more. Then I feel him pull the material to one side, and he slowly, oh so slowly, slides one long finger up inside me. All coherent thought is gone. I want this man, and I want him now.

"Take me, please," I manage to say. He chuckles and then his lips are on me again, but his finger disappears. I let out a moan of frustration into his mouth, which only makes him chuckle once more.

"Don't worry, sugar lips, I'll see you all right." Suddenly, I feel my skirt being pushed up so it is bunched around my waist, leaving me exposed. He moves back from me slightly, removing all touch. I remain with my back pressed up against the elevator door as he looks me up and down, his eyes devouring me. "Perfection," he mutters, then his hands reach out for my hips. They take hold of the sides of my lacy panties and he crouches down in front of me so he can slide them down my legs. I lift my feet to allow him to slip them off over my heels, and he stuffs them into his jacket pocket. The one holding his phone that is usually glued to his hand. He looks up at me from his position on the floor, his nose level with my lady parts, and he leans forward. I hear him breath in my scent before his tongue briefly stretches out and flicks across my sensitive nub. My God, that feels good, so good. I need more of that.

He looks back up at me, smirking. "I'd love to stay down here and get a real taste of you, but I don't think we have long, and I want to fuck you so badly."

He stands back up, keeping his eyes on mine as he does. I'm ready to combust. My whole body is tingling.

As soon as he is upright, he is on me. One hand is in my hair, the other on my hip. His lips crash into mine, sucking, pulling, owning. His tongue plunges into my mouth, claiming me. Then I feel the hand at my hip move between us, and I hear the sound of a zipper and realize he must be freeing himself from the confines of his pants. I have wrapped my arms around his neck, running my hands through his hair, pulling him closer, but I want to explore what he has going on downstairs. I start to move one hand round to his firm, toned, yet still disappointingly covered, chest before exploring lower. But then he stops me.

He grabs my wrist, moving my hand until he holds it level with my head. "As much as I want you to touch me, I want to be inside you more." His words echo my desire, but before I can think any further, his other hand takes hold of my thigh and pulls my leg up around his hip. I feel him shift slightly, and then, with one deep thrust, he is in me, deep and hard. The feeling is indescribable, but he doesn't give me long to get used to it. He pulls out nearly all the way before he's once again in me so deep. Then the rhythm starts. Initially, he makes long hard strokes, but the pace quickly picks up. By this stage, I have both legs wrapped around him, and my fingers dig hard into his shoulders. My back is being driven against the door of the elevator again and again, and I know I will be bruised in the morning, but I don't care. His left hand rests under my butt cheek, fondling, stroking, caressing. The other is in my hair, holding my head where he needs it to give him access to my neck. This hand is now moving down and between our bodies, up under my work shirt to fondle my breasts. His hands are like fire, sending shivers of energy through my body. He pulls down my bra cup, giving himself direct access to my nipple, he gives it a squeeze. The sensation, just on the edge of being painful, is too much, and I scream as I reach my climax. As I do, I feel his lips increase their pressure on my neck, sucking, licking, and biting.

"That's it," he moans, into my skin. "Come for me, sugar. Let me feel you."

I relax into him, but he's not done with me yet. He slides out of me and turns me around. "Look at yourself," he says as he directs my attention to the heavily polished metal door where I can see a reflection of the two of us staring back. He is holding me around my waist, his beautiful face looking over my shoulder with such a dark look in his eye. I look disheveled, lust-filled, and thoroughly fucked. But it would appear not fucked enough as he slides back into me from behind. I rest my hands against the door and watch him as he watches me in the mirrored surface.

"Every time you ride in this elevator. Every time you look in that mirror. I want you to be reminded of me and what I do to your body. What I'm doing to your body now." As he talks, he pushes hard into me. In and out, again and again. The feeling is powerful, intense. I lean my head back on his shoulder, using the surface of the door as leverage to push my hips back into him harder, meeting every thrust of his hips. I can't help the primal sounds that are emanating from my throat as he possesses me completely. His wandering hands have once again found my nipples, and it is all becoming too much. I'm rising again, and I know it's only a matter of time before I have my second orgasm. In the past, I've struggled even to come once from penetrative sex, but whether it's the man or the situation, my body is on fire tonight.

"Look at yourself," he demands again. "You're loving me being inside you. You're loving what I do to your body." His breath is in my ear as he speaks, and I'm so close. Then his hand is on my clit. He rubs with just the right amount of pressure and it's all a need. I come again with an almighty roar that I'm sure can be heard on all floors, if there was anyone else in the building.

As I shiver in his hold and my body spasms, I feel him push once more into my tired, sated body, holding me upright as he does, before he too cries out, throwing his head back, then we both collapse to the floor in a heap of limbs.

He cradles me against him in his arms as we both regain our breath and our strength.

"Fuck, that was intense," he says as he runs his hand up and down my bare thigh, occasionally going high enough to run over my ass cheek.

He looks down at me into my eyes. "Are you okay?" he asks.

I don't know what to reply. I've dreamt of being with this man but never expected it to happen. Now that it has, I don't know what to think. I never thought I'd be the sort to have sex with a man in an elevator, especially not a man whose name I don't know. On the one hand, I feel liberated, like now that I've had him, here, I can do anything. On the other, I feel like this shouldn't have happened. I'm not that sort of girl. But I can't tell him any of that, so I just nod before extricating myself from his arms and finding my legs, albeit a little wobbly.

He rises also, pulling up and zipping his pants as he does. Then without speaking, he presses the button to release the elevator, and it resumes its descent as we both straighten our clothes. I don't ask for my underwear back, and he doesn't offer to give it to me.

Neither of us say a word as we complete our journey. At the first floor, the doors open, and I step through to the lobby. He holds the door and leans his head out. The place is deserted, except for a lone security guard sitting behind the desk looking at us curiously.

"How are you getting home?" he asks. "It's late," he clarifies, "you shouldn't walk home alone."

"I've ordered a cab; it should be here soon," I say quietly.

He looks toward the security guard.

"Stay inside until it gets here. Embry will look after you," he says, nodding in the direction of the security guard.

I nod my agreement, and then he's gone. The elevator doors close, giving me one last glance at those penetrating green eyes before he is whisked away to the underground parking lot.

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Thanks as always to Robfansteinpire and Alice's White Rabbit who helped sort out my ramblings into something resembling American English (I've learned - not learnt - that you don't use the word till in place of until, and whilst we use whilst you prefer while.) Writing outside your normal dialect can be tricky, so if any Britishisms have slipped through I do apologise.


	3. Chapter 3

**This is the last of the original O/S you'll be getting as it stood. The next section will be expanded to bring in a few plot points and to allow for a bit more development and then we will be into virgin territory. It will be a little while till I get the next bit too you, but I'm hoping not too long. Fingers crossed on RL not throwing me a curved ball.**

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

The next morning, I have a long, hot shower, both to ease my worn, tired muscles from the night before but also to wake me up after a night of no sleep. My night had been filled with images of two deep green eyes looking over my shoulder, possessing me, consuming me. And when I wasn't assaulted by images from the elevator, I was worrying about the report I've sent to Mr. Cullen and what the consequences might be. For all I know, today may be my last chance to see _him_ as I may well lose my job later.

I skip breakfast, determined to get to work at my usual time today. If this is the last chance I get to see him, I'm determined to make the most of it. Fuck being embarrassed about last night.

Waiting at the elevator bank, I'm both nervous and excited. Will he acknowledge me? Will it be business as usual, with me trying to get close and catching stolen glances? If I stand near him, will he touch me again as he did yesterday morning? Unlikely with the elevator less crowded at this earlier time. Do I want him to touch me again? I realize the idea thrills me. Yes, I want to feel his hands on me again. I rub my legs together under my skirt as I feel my arousal build. Yes, that's right. I wore a skirt again. It appears I am the sort of girl who likes to get felt up in elevators. As long as the person doing the feeling has green eyes, long fingers, and an impeccable business suit.

The elevator pings its arrival, and the doors open. There he is. It's a scene I've seen countless times over the last few weeks, but this morning, it is all different. He is still looking as sexy as ever in his tailored business suit, his phone in hand as he scrolls through whatever webpage or report he is reading today, his hair disheveled and unruly. But today, I see a slight smirk to his lips as his green eyes briefly lift to meet mine. It's a smirk I return as I enter the elevator and move to stand directly in front of him.

I look at him in the mirrored door, and he was right, as I look in that surface, memories of last night come flooding back, and I feel the color rise on my cheeks and my breathing gets a little heavier. My eyes catch his reflection, and he's watching me. It takes all the strength I have not to turn around. I contemplate stepping back so I can touch him, but the elevator is empty enough that people would notice. I fidget as my body fights with its natural desires. As we ride up, he doesn't take his eyes off me, and the smirk that tells me he knows exactly what he's doing to me doesn't leave his lips.

All thoughts of what today holds for me work-wise have left my mind to be filled with those dangerous eyes and that all-knowing smile.

By the time we reach the twenty-first floor, I'm a quivering wreck, and I wonder how I manage to make my legs work to exit onto my floor. I make it to my desk and collapse into my chair, grateful for being the first into the department as it allows me a few moments to compose myself. I'm still sitting there when Victoria comes in twenty minutes later.

"Nice scarf, Bella," she calls as she passes my cubical, indicating the wrap I'd had to tie around my neck this morning to hide the marks left by my elevator companion last night. "I need to see you in my office in five," she continues as she breezes along.

Shit. Is this it? Has she found out I sent the email already? Is she about to fire me? But she didn't seem pissed, and how could she have found out yet? I relax, hoping it's nothing.

I was right. Victoria loaded me up with a lot of new work. More than I could hope to achieve today, and of course, it's all urgent. She is certainly trying to keep me busy, trying to stop me from looking into other things, my suspicious mind thinks.

I've got my head down, beavering away, when I hear a throat clear at the entrance of my cubical, and I look up to find James Hunter standing there. This is a bit of a shock. Not only had I not heard him approaching, but also James doesn't normally stoop to talk to us directly, choosing instead to send directives via Victoria. To say I'm instantly worried is an understatement.

"Morning, Mr. Hunter," I say, a little nervously. "Can I help you with something?"

I try and read his face. Is he worried? Angry? But I don't get much, except maybe a little smugness.

"You've been summoned, Miss Swan," he says loudly, drawing the attention of those around us.

"Summoned?" I repeat, not too sure what he is getting at.

"Mr. Cullen has requested your presence." Once again, he speaks loudly, and I hear a couple gasps from the cubicles around me. Everyone knows the rumors.

Shit. This is it. He's read the report I sent. He's either going to sack me for sticking my nose in where it's not wanted, or he's going to ask me to explain it, maybe leading to James and Victoria losing their jobs. At least, this means he's read it and is taking it serious enough to talk to me. That can only be a good thing, can't it? Or perhaps he's not seen it at all, and James has done something to get me fired. He knows I was starting to get curious; perhaps he's preempted me and spoken to Mr. Cullen himself, and he's found a way to pin something on me. Perhaps the rumors are true, and you only get called to Mr. Cullen's office to be fired. Every possible scenario whizzes through my head at lightning speed.

"Isabella," James calls, bringing me out of my trance, "He's expecting you now. I suggest you get going if you don't want to get into even more trouble."

His smug attitude is leading me to believe he really has done something to get me fired. He certainly doesn't seem worried in any way. Now I really am scared.

I quickly lock my computer and make my way to the elevators. Fortunately, my ride up to the thirty-eighth floor is not in elevator three. I don't need those thoughts flying through my head on top of everything else. I do allow myself to briefly lament the fact I may never see _him_ again.

As the elevator doors open, I reluctantly leave to confront Mr. Cullen. I've never been on the top floor before, and I may never be here again. I look around at the large foyer area. The walls are decorated with abstract works of art in a subdued pallet, and I wonder if they are originals. Probably, I conclude. The room itself is sparsely furnished. There are a few potted plants, adding a bit of life to otherwise austere surroundings. The predominate color is white, the only real splash of vibrancy coming from the deep red blazer of the PA sitting behind an imposing desk, eyeing me like I'm something she trod in. She is slim with blonde hair pulled back into a tight high bun. She is pristine, with not a single hair out of place, and fits into the surroundings well.

"May I help you," she asks in a voice that, while on the surface is polite, drips with condescending undertones.

"I'm here to see Mr. Cullen," I clarify timidly.

"Do you have an appointment?" she asks, obviously under the impression someone like me couldn't possibly be allowed up here.

"He asked to see me," I add.

Then the buzzer on her desk sounds and an electronically-distorted voice fills the area, "Tanya, when Miss Swan gets here, can you send her straight in, please."

I smile at her. "That's me," I say, feeling smug she's not going to get to drive me off.

She doesn't say anything else. Just rises and leads me down a wide corridor to a large, double wooden door. There are no windows into the room, ensuring the occupant privacy. Tanya, the snooty PA, briefly knocks before pushing the door open slightly and ushering me forward. As I enter, she closes the door behind me.

I'm not sure what to do. I stand just inside the door and look around. The room is vast. There is a couch and chairs around a low coffee table to one side of the room. The other side is dominated by a board table that can comfortable sit ten people. In the middle of the office, in front of the expansive windows that look out over Seattle, sits a large, elegant desk. It is extremely tidy with a couple files neatly stacked; a laptop, opened and facing the other direction from me; and a round, leather penholder, containing a letter opener as well as three or four smart-looking pens. No Bics for this office. Behind the desk, there is a bulky leather chair, currently turned toward the window.

"That was quick," I hear a voice say from the chair as it starts to turn. A voice that, after last night, I'd recognize anywhere. He comes into view, and seeing those eyes here nearly takes my breath away.

"You," I whisper.

He is looking equally shocked. "Miss Swan?"

I nod, trying to get my head to understand that my green-eyed stranger from the elevator is in fact the owner of the company, Mr. Cullen.

And then he smirks, and I want to jump him. "Well, well, Miss Swan," he continues. "You are a woman of surprises. I'm assuming the report I received this morning is the reason you were here so late last night."

So he's read the report. Shit, last night. I slept with the boss. The owner of the company. In his company's elevator.

Shit, the report; he's looking for a response. "You read my report?" I ask.

"I certainly did, Miss Swan, and it would appear I have a lot to thank you for. Not only has your diligent work led to me learning about a grave problem in your department, a problem I'm hoping you will be able to help me rectify, but it also gave me one of the best nights of my life."

He's looking at me like he was last night, like he wants to eat me. And you know what? Even now, knowing who he is, I'd let him.

I look down, embarrassed by my train of thought, and I feel my cheeks once again burning.

"Fuck," I hear him mutter. "Miss Swan, I'm terribly sorry. I assumed that last night… Well, I'm sorry if I overstepped the mark. Fuck, of course, I overstepped the mark. What I did last night was totally unacceptable, and if you wish to make a formal complaint against me then I will put you in touch with the right person in HR. Even though I didn't know who you were, I knew you worked for me, and I shouldn't have allowed myself to take advantage of you like that."

I look up at him, shocked. "You didn't take advantage of me," I say, quietly.

"Pardon?"

I swallow and continue, rather more confidently. "Last night, you didn't take advantage of me. I wanted that to happen; I enjoyed it." I feel my cheeks getting even redder, if that is at all possible. "I had no idea who you were, so you didn't take advantage of your position. But even if I had known, I'd still not report you. I was as much to blame as you were."

It's the truth. I've wanted him since the moment I saw him.

The smirk is back.

"So you're not going to sue me for sexual harassment?" he asks.

I shake my head. "Since it all started with me rubbing my ass against you, I think it would be rather hypocritical of me," I say, making myself look him in the eyes as I do.

His smoldering eyes burn into me as he drums his long fingers on his desk. "Since we've got that out the way, perhaps we should move on to discussing this rather interesting report you sent me last night and why I have reports coming up from Mr. Hunter, through Mr. Volturi, telling me your work is substandard, and bordering on incompetent. I have a feeling the two may be linked."

My mouth falls open in shock. "Don't worry, Miss Swan," he continues. "I've done my own research, and according to everyone else I've spoken to, you are a very diligent and capable employee. Mr. Newton, in particular, was very quick to sing your praises." He raises one eyebrow at me, and I wonder what that is about.

~~TMITE~~

It would appear Mr. Cullen is taking my findings very seriously. We go through what I found and how, and he agrees that Victoria and probably James, particularly after the suspicious way he tried to get rid of me, have been stealing large quantities of money from the firm. It is all in small amounts that are easily missed as data entry mistakes or rounding errors. But Mr. Cullen is also looking at the bigger picture. The data I have gathered so far clearly implicates Victoria, and there is an indication that it involves James, but the evidence against him isn't that strong. He could easily claim ignorance or incompetence. But Mr. Cullen also has his suspicions that the issue goes much deeper. It would appear that he suspects the VP in charge of finance, James' boss Caius Volturi, is involved. So far, my data doesn't indicate this, but he assures me he has his reasons not to trust the man.

"And that's where you come in, Miss Swan," he says as he outlines his plan.

"So you want me to gather data and lay trails in the figures that you will then be able to follow to the source?" I clarify.

"Exactly," he says. "We'll need to keep things quiet, so you will need to keep doing your normal day-to-day work and not let Victoria or James know anything is amiss. It will involve working outside office hours to set up the traps and monitor the movements. But, I assure you, you will be amply compensated for the extra work you put in."

"And how exactly did you plan on compensating me, Mr. Cullen?" I ask, trying my best to be flirtatious. I'm not too sure if I succeed or not. The meeting, up this point, has been all business. I've needed to sit close to him as we went through figures on his laptop, and while his close proximity impeded on my ability to concentrate, he seemed unaffected. Maybe last night was a one off. Now that we both know who each other is, it is probably wise to keep things professional.

But, as I look up at him, I see that look in his eyes again. The one he had last night when I first stepped into the elevator, and I know he still wants me as much as I want him.

He smiles at me. "Well, Miss Swan, before I knew exactly who you were, I had planned out a generous overtime and bonus package for you. Of course, that will still be part of your compensation for taking on this extra work."

He inches closer to me. Our legs, which had been close, suddenly touch, my knee against his pant-covered thigh, and all the same sensations as last night run through my body.

"But, if you happen to be working late one night and find you have to come up here to clear something with me, and while you were here you suddenly thought of some other way you'd like me to show my gratitude, then you'd only need to say the word. But you would need to say the word, Miss Swan. As your boss, it would be highly inappropriate for me to instigate anything of that nature." As he speaks, the fingers of his right hand run along the edge of a file on his desk. I remember how they felt running along my underwear last night.

"What if I can think of a way you could show your gratitude now, Mr. Cullen?" I ask, desperate to feel those fingers on me again. But he makes no move to touch me. He just continues to trace the edge of the file, teasing me.

"Then it would be my duty to ensure you received exactly what you wished for." He smirks at me again and leans forward 'til I can feel his breath against my cheek. "But, Miss Swan, let me warn you. I want you to be very precise in what you ask for. So as not to avoid confusion in the future, I need to be sure you are fully consenting." He pulls back as I lean forward, desperate to feel his lips against mine again. "So, tell me, Miss Swan, what exactly do you want me to do to you now? This minute?"

I swallow and look away from him, around his room. What do I want exactly? I know I want him. But I think he is expecting more than that. His desk looks very inviting, but that board table? I imagine him meeting with his VPs and business partners around that table, and I want him to be thinking of me while he's talking sales and projections and mergers and profits. That's where I want him. On that table.

I look back at his searing eyes. "I want you to lay me out on that boardroom table. I want you to use those long, talented fingers to make me scream your name, then I want you to take me and fuck me so hard I'll be able to feel you for the next week." I know I'm bright red again. Never in my life have I spoken like this. Never have a told a man to fuck me.

He looks over at the table. "All on that table where I have a very important business meeting this afternoon with a potential new client?" he asks, and I nod. "You really are a dirty girl, aren't you, Miss Swan."

Then his mouth is on me. There is nothing gentle about the kiss. It is about two people fighting for control, for dominance, but I know all along who is going to win. I'm no match for this man. And deep down, I don't want to be. I want to be possessed by him. He pulls back and starts to remove my scarf. As he does, he reveals the marks he left on my neck the previous evening.

"Fuck me," he mutters. "Seeing my mark on you does things to me, Miss Swan." He leans down and kisses along each bruise, gradually trailing his kisses lower as he undoes the buttons of my shirt, revealing my lacy bra.

Then I'm off my seat as he picks me up, my chest flush to his. He's still kissing me as he stands, and I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. He walks forward until I feel him start to lower me slowly backward. I feel the cold wood of the solid oak boardroom table under my back. I imagine it's the kind that cost a fortune from some designer store.

I hope this man is going to prove just how sturdy and solid it is.

Once I'm flat on my back across the table, he stands up and takes a step back, looking at me once again, just as he did last night. I want to touch him. I want him to touch me. But he is just out of reach, looking down at me. He takes me in, from my eyes and lips, down my neck, over my cleavage, past my waist, my hips, my thighs, all the way down to my toes. He just takes me in.

"Fuck, you look exquisite there with your skirt pulled up, allowing me to see the top of your thigh highs, your buttons undone, exposing your perfect breasts. I want to remember this sight. I want to remember the first time I took you in this room and made you scream my name."

"The first time?" I ask.

"Oh, yes, Miss Swan, do you really think I'd be satisfied after one brief encounter?" He looks around the room. "There are still so many places I want to have you in this room." He glances behind himself. "My desk is currently top of my list, but that can wait for another time. After all, I said today was lady's choice."

Then he's on me. He leans over and kisses me. Once again, it's not subtle; there is nothing gentle about it. Even though I've chosen this, his kiss leaves me in no doubt as to who is in charge here.

As we kiss, his hand runs up my thigh until it reaches the top. His fingers explore under the edge of my panties before, suddenly, plunging deep inside me. I cry out at the sudden intrusion, unexpected but so welcomed.

"Shhh," he whispers against my lips. "We don't want my PA bursting in here."

My eyes fly open, aghast at the prospect. He chuckles as he starts to kiss down my neck, then lower, toward my breasts. "Don't worry, sugar lips, she wouldn't dare come in here unannounced. Besides, the walls and door are thick. You'd have to scream very loud to get her attention."

By now, my shirt is completely undone, and he has pulled my bra down to expose my breasts. I feel his mouth on my left nipple, his tongue licking, his lips sucking, and his teeth biting. He seems to be an expert with my body, knowing just the right amount of pressure to apply, when to back off, when to be rough, and when to be soft. All the while, his fingers are working magic under my skirt. He's added a second finger, and each time he thrusts in, his thumb is hitting my clit just right. I'm not sure how long I'm going to last. This man is playing me like a violin, and my stings are about to snap.

But then his hand is gone, as is his mouth. I lie there panting, wondering why he's left me this close, desperate for my release, but then I feel my underwear being pulled down, and my skirt pushed up to bunch around my waist. I look down at him as he looks back up before his mouth is just where I want it. He licks my lower lips as if he's savoring a fine wine, then sucks and kisses my clit. I'm so close now, it's almost painful. His tongue plunges into me, and he uses it to fuck me. I shatter. It's the most intense feeling I've ever had. My body shakes and tenses. I throw my arms over my head, holding onto the far edge of the table for dear life as I ride out wave after wave of my orgasm.

He doesn't stop his tongue as I shake and convulse around him, and I don't think I'm ever going to come down, but eventually, the trembling starts to slow, and I feel it ending.

This seems to be the cue he was looking for, and he stands up. I hear his zipper undo, and I look down at him, marveling at the fact he is still fully dressed and still looks immaculate. He drops his pants and underwear quickly, and I get a brief moment to take in his impressive erection before he plunges it into me, quick and forcefully. The brief look I got was impressive, and the feel is even more so. I'm still riding out the end of my last high, and I cry out as I come instantly once again.

"Fuck, the feel of you tightening around me it phenomenal," he exclaims, keeping himself still as I ride out my current climax. As he sees me start to relax, he starts to move. My legs are wrapped around him as I lie back and watch him standing above me, entering me quickly and purposefully. His hands are on my hips holding me steady, giving him extra purchase as he takes me hard and fast. I reach up and grip his forearms, enjoying the feel of his muscles moving under my fingers. I want to know what the rest of him will feel like, but that will have to wait. He cups one of my breasts and gives my nipple a tweak, making me cry out.

"I'm going to make you come with me, Miss Swan, screaming my name as you do," and I believe he will. Everything is possible with this man at the moment.

"Bella," I murmur. "Please, my name is Bella." The idea of him saying my name as he comes takes me one step closer to his aim.

"Bella," he repeats, rolling the word around his tongue. "In that case, I'm Edward. Can you remember that when you come? The name you're to scream is Edward."

"Edward," I murmur, and then I feel his hand, that had still been playing with my breast, reach down and apply pressure to my clit. It's too much. "Edward," I scream as I start to shatter, yet again.

"That's it, sugar," he says as he gives one last thrust and stills deep inside me, yelling out "Bella" as he does.

* * *

A/N As always thanks go to Robfansteinpire and Alice's White Rabbit who helped me get this story in a readable state.


	4. Chapter 4

**So here we go. Sorry it's taken so long to get this out there, but RL and all that jazz. I hope the length makes up for it. Plus the fact it contains new material - yippee. I'm hoping to be able to post on a two weekly schedule for the foreseeable. Fingers crossed it works out.**

* * *

 **The Man in the Elevator – Chapter 4**

As I walk back to my desk, I can feel everyone's eyes on me. But I hold my head up high, reminding myself I've done nothing wrong, even if that's not the story I have to make everyone believe.

I somehow manage to make it to my cubicle without anyone actually stopping me to talk, and I take a deep breath.

 _Ping!_ My computer alerts me to an incoming PM. I open it up and see it's from Angela.

 **Don't keep me in suspense here? What's going on? Have you been fired? Tell me everything. NOW - A**

So the rumor mill is working well. My visit to Mr. Cullen has spread at least across this floor. I wonder who else knows.

 **No, I've not been fired. I'll tell you more later. Can't really talk now. - B**

I know what I'm supposed to be telling people but lying to Ang seems wrong. She's my closest friend here at work. Hell, she's my closest friend in this city. We both started at CMH at the same time and went through induction together, instantly hitting it off over shared stifled yawns during the IT presentation. God, that man could have made skydiving sound boring.

 **Come on, Bells. You've been up there in the Big Man's office for over 2 hours, and that's all you're going to give me? - A**

I'm just about to reply when Victoria appears at my cubicle entrance, looking less than pleased.

"Bella, my office now. We need to talk about what just happened." With that, she turns and stalks back across the open-plan area.

 **I've just been summoned to Victoria's. Wish me luck. I may need it. - B**

Her reply is quick.

 **Tonight, Bella Swan, you will be joining me for drinks at The Tavern as soon as the clock hits 5. There will be no excuses. I need answers. - A**

I'm just about to lock down my computer when a follow-up PM pings that makes me smile.

 **Please, Bella. I'm worried about you. Good luck. - A**

Victoria smiles as I enter her office, but it seems false, her eyes not really joining the party. I take a big breath. Time to put my acting skills to the test. Shit. I'm a crap liar. Maybe I should just cry? Does that work with women? Somehow, I don't think so. Besides, I have some integrity.

"Take a seat, Bella. I wanted to talk to you about your meeting with Mr. Cullen."

Her face takes on a sympathetic and concerned look, and I wait patiently for her to start. Mr. Cullen's plan involves me playing along with the suspects for the time being, but I'm not sure what news has filtered down to Victoria yet. The belief that Victoria and James have is that I was summoned to be fired. Obviously, I'm still here. That needs some sort of explanation.

"He has sent me down a report. Now, reading this, it would appear there have been a couple complaints regarding your work. I'm sorry it came to this, Bella. I like you, and you work hard, but it would appear you missed a few details on some important projects." She smiles sympathetically, and I look down at my hands resting in my lap, trying my best to look contrite.

"I blame myself for not checking your work to the level I should have been, but I have to say I'd expected better of you." She uses a tone that reminds me of when I was being reprimanded by my father, Charlie, as a child. I have to say it grates.

There is a long pause, and I wonder if I should fill it, but I'm struggling to hold on to my anger at the moment. There has never been anything wrong with my work, and I know she knows this. I keep my head low and my mouth shut, fearing my eyes and voice will reveal the truth. The truth that I know she is lying.

I hear her sigh. "I know this is tough, and I know you've just been through a thorough grilling from Mr. Cullen."

I dip my head further as my lips threaten to turn up into a smile as I think about the thorough going over Mr. Cullen has really just given me.

"I just wanted to make sure you were on board with the extra supervision I will be needing to undertake on your work going forward. On top of me having to review each of your submissions, I will also need to meet with you twice weekly to discuss how your performance is improving."

I take a deep breath and force myself to answer. "I understand that, Victoria, and I'm terribly sorry if this has inconvenienced you. I promise I will do better in the future." There, that wasn't so hard, was it?

"It's okay, Bella, I know you want to do your best. As I said, I like you, but you have to understand that you are very lucky to still have a job. Not many people are given a second chance by Mr. Cullen. But then, I did put in a good word for you as I feel you do have the ability to do this job well. If you just keep your mind in the game and don't allow yourself to become distracted."

Now we both know what she's talking about. Don't go sticking my head where it's not wanted. Message received and understood, Victoria, but sorry, no can do. I'm going to be sticking my little nose right into your business, and I'm going to take you down.

"The week's nearly over now, so I suggest you finish up the Peterson project work then call it a day. I'll see you back here on Monday, ready to put your best foot forward." A glance up and I see a condescending smile. She thinks she has me just where she wants me.

"No problem, Victoria. What about the Smith, Smith, and Smith project you gave me this morning? You said it was urgent?"

"Oh, don't worry about that, Bella. I'll talk to the project manager and explain all. I'm sure Mike will be okay to wait until Monday for those numbers."

Amazing how the stuff I desperately needed to do today is no longer urgent.

~TMITE~

At five on the dot, Ang is waiting at the entrance to my cubicle. "Come on, Swan. We need to hit the bar." I turn to face her. "Boy, do you look like you need a drink. First one's on me, as long as you spill the beans."

"Thanks, Webber. Remind me never to come to you for a pick me up when I'm down."

"Shit, you're not really losing your job, are you? But you're so good at it!"

"Let's not talk here," I say, looking around for Victoria or James. "The Tavern is calling."

We make our way down to the lobby, thankfully not in elevator three, and then walk the two blocks to our usual Friday night hang out, The Tavern bar. Being situated in the business district, it's mainly frequented by office workers. Ang and I started going because of its convenience, but we kept going because it serves the best margaritas. Oh, and because of Ben, who always gets one lined up for us the minute he sees us enter the door, no matter how busy it is.

"Ladies," he calls over the noisy Friday night chatter, passing us our drinks. "The first one's on me; you look like you've had a tough week."

"Thank you, Ben." Ang grins back. That girl has it bad. Not that I can't see the attraction. That boy rocks geek chic.

"I saved you a table." He nods in the direction of our usual spot, nestled away at the back but near the small dance area in front of the even smaller stage, which is set up with a drum kit, amps, and mics, presumably for the band who will be playing later. At the moment, the bar is playing their usual background music at a level that allows for relatively comfortable conversation, but I suspect it will get louder later as the live music takes over. After thanking Ben, I ask him to bring over a second drink as soon as he is able, and we make our way through the crowd. For this early, it sure is busy tonight.

I've barely sat down before Ang starts to ask the questions.

"Why were you summoned? What's he like? Was he going to fire you? Why would he fire _you_? I thought Victoria only told you last week what a great job you were doing?"

There's no way I can face this without some Dutch courage. I pick up my drink and take a long swig. Once I start, I find I can't stop, and I'm soon putting down an empty glass. I take a deep breath then look up into Angela's worried eyes.

"Wow, Bella. It was that bad? Was he a real ogre?"

"No, it's nothing like that, but it has definitely been an unusual day. In fact, two unusual days."

"So, tell me about it already."

I reach for my glass then remember it's empty. "Uhhhh," I groan in frustration. "Where to start?"

"The beginning's always a good place," suggests Ang, pushing her drink over to me. I smile my thanks and take a sip.

"Before I start, Ang, and I know this goes without saying, but everything I tell you can go no further."

"Well, now you certainly have me intrigued, but of course—" she reaches up and makes some sort of salute that may or may not resemble the scout salute "—scout's honor, Bella. I promise to take your secrets to my grave." Her face is serious, but there is a massive twinkle in her eye.

"You were never a girl scout, Webber, but I trust you."

"Ladies, I feel this may be in order." It's Ben, holding a large pitcher of margaritas. Now this I call service. This man is good.

"Thank you so much, Ben," enthuses Ang, batting her eyelashes at him. I roll my eyes. Could the girl make it any more obvious?

"My pleasure, ladies. Now don't go getting into any trouble, and let me know if I can get you anything else."

"We sure will," she coo's, and he winks at her before walking back to the bar. Ang watches his ass the whole way, and I'm convinced he's flexing his gluteus maximus to full effect knowing she is looking. I give her a quick kick under the table to get her attention back.

"Oww! What was that for?"

"Just jump him already."

"Oh, Bella. I'd love to, but then what if I find he's useless in the bedroom department and have to dump his ass. We'd have to find another bar to hang out in, and, as well as that being a major pain in the ass because, let's face it, this is the bestest and most convenient bar in the whole city, we'd also no longer have that fabtabulous ass to look at as we drink. I really don't think it's worth the risk."

"Webber, you are impossible."

"Just telling it like it is, Swan. Now back to you and the big boss. Tell all."

I go on to explain everything to Angela about my findings with the projects Victoria has been involved with and sending the report to Mr. Cullen, followed by what happened in our meeting today, leaving out the part where he laid me out across his boardroom table and made me scream his name.

"Shit, so you're going to be spying on Victoria and James and reporting it to the big boss. This is mammoth, Bella."

I nod.

"So, what's he like? Is he as scary as they say?"

I think about my encounters with Mr. Cullen. I can definitely see him being able to intimidate people. He was masterful and controlled. The sort of guy who goes after what he wants and gets it.

"What's that grin for, Swan?" asks Ang, then her eyes open wide, "You've got the hots for him, don't you? What is it? Does his power and position excite you? Is he attractive?"

"Oh, Ang," I sigh, realizing I'm going to tell her everything. "The man is sex on legs. It's not his position though, it's just him. The man exudes confidence and power and … well, pure sex appeal."

"Tell me more." She has a wicked grin on her face as she leans in close.

"I will, but first …" I look around and quickly catch Ben's eye and, despite how busy the bar is tonight, he is right over. I'm still not quite drunk enough to confess about my elevator encounter.

"Ladies?"

"Shots, Ben. We need Tequila," I tell him.

He smiles. "That kind of a week huh? Well, I'll be right back." And he saunters off, with another wink at Ang.

"Am I going to need to carry you home tonight?" asks Ang.

"Probably? Do you mind?"

"Not at all. You'd do the same for me. But come back to my place. If you're getting that drunk, I'd like to have you where I can keep an eye on you."

"No problem, Mom." We grin at each other, knowing I'd return the favor and look after her under similar circumstances.

Ben is quick with the drinks, and I've soon knocked two back before the impatient look on Angela's face makes me start talking. I'm now feeling a little lightheaded, okay a lot lightheaded, and I may veer into TMI territory on occasions when I start waxing lyrical about what my man in the elevator does to my body and how he make me feel.

As I talk, Ang's eyes get bigger and bigger. When I describe my late night elevator encounter, she knocks back her first shot. Then when I reveal who my mystery man is, she joins me in another. A third is consumed when I reveal we christened his boardroom table.

When I finish, she leans back and stares at me for a moment, and I wonder what she's thinking.

"Lay it on me, Webber. Am I a bad person? Is it wrong to sleep with this man?"

"Are you seriously asking me if it's morally right for you to shag your boss? Are you serious, Bella? For him, no, it's totally not ethical, but are either of you hurting anyone at the moment?"

"I don't think so."

"I admit I have some concerns. Especially after Alex. But …" she sighs. "Do you have any feelings for him … beyond the pure lust I can see written all over your face?" She points her finger toward me and circles it around, allowing the tip to outline my features.

"I don't know him enough to have feelings for him. It's just sex. Raw, animal sex. Besides, you know I'm not looking for any sort of relationship at the moment."

She looks at me for a long time, and I bite the inside of my lip waiting for her verdict.

"Then I say have some fun, as long as you are both on the same page and can remain professional, despite your relationship. But, Bella, as a friend, I ask you to please be careful. He holds all the cards here. Don't let him hurt you."

"Don't worry, Ang, I'm a modern woman. I know the difference between a real relationship and a, well, a boss with benefits." I chuckle to myself, the tension now broken. Those abs, those hands, those lips, yes, there are certainly benefits to this boss.

"I'll be watching you closely, Swan. The first sign of you falling for him and I'm pulling the plug on my support." She looks at me sternly. But I know where I stand. I know exactly what this relationship is about. "Also, reassure me you're being careful, protection-wise. I love you, but you sometimes share my bed. I don't want any nasty itching going on under my sheets."

I look sheepish. I'm on the pill, and Ang knows this, but I know better than to allow a man near me without wrapping up, but last night, and then today, in the heat of the moment, all caution went out the window.

"Christ's sake, Swan. Tomorrow we are getting you tested for everything. Do you not learn? After Alex and all that shit. Bella, men! Don't trust them, at least not with your health. Have I taught you nothing?"

I interrupt before she can get too far into her rant. She's right. I know she's right. I've made a mistake, and I hope to God it's not one I'll go on to regret, but when Ang gets on this particular band wagon, it can be hard to get her off. "Okay, okay, Webber. I'll get tested, and I promise next time, I'll make sure he bags it before he gets to dip his wick in my company ink."

Ang looks at me incredulously for a moment before bursting into a fit of giggles. "Dip his wick? What lame ass period drama have you been reading to pick up that phrase?"

I join her in her giggles.

"But now—" blurts out Ang, as she regains her composure and grins at me "—it's time to dance."

"You know I don't dance," I admonish. She's knows better than this.

"Unless you're drunk, and, tonight, Bella Swan, you are most certainly drunk." She has me there. She takes my silence for, if not approval, at least acceptance, and with a loud cheer that disappears into the noise of the now packed bar, she leaps up, grabs me by the hand, and drags me onto the dance floor.

~TMITE~

It's starting to get late, and the evening crowd has hit. Ang has only allowed me to leave the dance floor for a few moments to throw backa couple quick shots between songs. The band The Tavern has in tonight are good. A lively mix of reworked familiar tunes with their own original songs is helping to keep the crowd dancing and the atmosphere buzzing. So much so that there is very little room to move freely on the small dance floor and its surrounding area. Not that what I do could really be described as dancing. It's more waving my arms haphazardly while I try to move my hips in time to the music. But my inhibitions are low due to the alcohol, and no one seems to be paying us much attention, so I just let go and allow myself to enjoy my time with Ang.

"Come on. We need one more shot," yells Ang over the music, taking my hand and pulling me off the dance floor, moving backward herself as she smiles back at me.

Crash! The sound of breaking glass followed by a loud "Fuck" pulls our attention to the space just behind her.

It would appear Ang wasn't the only one who wasn't looking where she was going. She has collided with a petite girl with jet black hair who is now looking forlornly at the floor where her smashed glass is lying in a puddle of pink fluid.

"Shit, sorry," says Ang, turning around then bending down to help the girl, who has started to pick up the larger bit of glass.

"It's no problem; I wasn't looking where I was going." They both look up at each other.

"Ang?" "Alice?" I hear exclaimed in unison.

Before my alcohol-slowed brain can figure out what is going on, the two of them have their arms wrapped around each other and are both squealing at the top of their lungs.

"What are you doing here?" Ang is the first to pull back, looking the shorter girl up and down before reaching up and touching the end of her hair, which is cut into a short pixie style. "I thought you were all set to take that role in Florida after graduation?"

"Oh, that fell through. The company went into receivership only two weeks after I started, so I was back to stage one, but then I contacted Professor Banner, and he put me in touch with a firm, McCarty Construction, and, to cut a long story short, I moved up here and started working for them last week." The girl is talking fast; so fast, in fact, I'm struggling to keep up.

"You should have let me know you were coming. I could have helped you settle in." Ang looks almost hurt. I guess she knows this girl well.

"To be honest, I've been meaning to contact you, but the move all happened so fast. I've not had time to even think."

Just then, they are interrupted by Ben with a brush and mop. "Ang," he says with a shake of his head but a teasing look in his eye, "are you causing trouble? Do I need to get you thrown out?"

"Sorry, Ben," she says, looking sheepish and smiling up at him from under her lashes. "If I promise it won't happen again, can we please stay?"

"No problem, Ang," he says with his customary wink as he finishes sweeping up the spillage. "I'll see you at the bar for some refills." And he disappears off into the crowd.

"Well, he's a hottie," says the new girl as he departs.

"Hands off, Brandon, I saw him first."

Nubie raises her hands in a placating gesture. "Message understood." She smiles at my friend. "Now let me get a look at you." She steps back and looks Ang up and down. As she does, a small frown starts to build on her face. "Ang, Ang, Ang," she says with a shake of her head. "Did you come here straight from work? I can't believe after four years in my company, you would decide to wear that for an evening out. Have I not taught you anything about accessorizing?"

"Guilty as charged." Ang smiles back. "Bella and I work just round the corner at CMH. Oh!" she exclaims. "Bella!" She looks around at me, and it would appear she's finally remembered my presence. "Bella, you have to meet Alice." She grabs my arm, pulling me forward. "Alice is one of my really good friends from my college course. Alice, this is Bella; she and I work together."

"Nice to meet you, Alice; any friend of Angela's is a friend of mine."

With introductions out of the way, I notice Alice still looking me and Ang over. "You know I really have to do something about this," she says, shaking her head. "I mean, that skirt—" she indicates my short, easy access skirt "—that will certainly do, but the top—" she shakes her head "—it screams office far too much, and as for that scarf … " I step back as she steps forward, her hands out, reaching for my neck.

"Don't worry," reassures Ang, "this is just Alice's thing. I'd advise you to just let her get on with it. It'll be less painful in the long run. Besides, she works wonders."

Alice quirks her eyebrow at me, asking me silently for permission. I shrug my shoulders. I suppose it can't do any harm. "Knock yourself out," I say.

"Hmmm," she murmurs as she undoes the scarf, revealing my neck. "Oh my," she says, and it's at that point I remember why I wore the scarf, and my hand flies to the marks on my neck left by my elevator companion last night. "Okay," she continues, as Ang's eyes go wide, "we can work with this." She turns to her bag as I catch Ang's eye, and she mouths "Mr. Cullen?" and I nod.

"This should do the trick," says Alice, emerging from the Tardis-like bag with a chunky necklace that she drapes around my neck, raising up on her tiptoes to fasten the clasp before popping up the collar of my shirt. "A few accessories can turn round an outfit, and the right ones can hide a multitude of sins," she says as she grabs my hair, twisting it, before clipping it in place. Where the clip came from I have no idea. I can feel a few hairs falling around my face, and she teases one or two more out as I stand there stunned. She looks back at me, appraisingly. "Much better. Now everyone's eyes will be drawn to that great neck but won't be able to see those love bites."

"You really can't see them?" I ask, glancing at Ang for approval.

"You'd have to know and be looking," confirms Ang.

"Your turn, Ang." Alice turns to my friend. "You know what would go great with that outfit? The earrings I got you last birthday. I don't suppose you have them on you?" Ang shakes her head with a small laugh. "Oh, well, I'll just have to work with what I've got. Once again, her bag opens and out comes a sheer scarf. She ties it around Angela's neck before giving her some bangles to put on her arms. Her hair is left down, but Alice ruffles her hands through it, miraculously giving it extra volume, allowing it to now frame her face and somehow accentuate her eyes. I'm not sure how she achieved it; maybe her hands secrete magical hair products.

She looks back between the two of us. "Better," she concludes. "I'd ideally like to give your makeup a quick going over, but you both don't need much, so you'll do for now. Besides, there is fun to be had. Come, meet my friends, then we can dance."

And dance we did. A lot of the evening turned into a bit of a blur for me. We met Alice's friends, colleagues from her new work place. I remembered all of them to be very welcoming and friendly although most of their names eluded me as soon as I was told them. But I do remember laughing and joking with them a lot. Ang and Alice caught up, and we vowed to do it all again the following Friday. It would appear my social circle was expanding.

~TMITE~

In some ways, Monday morning came around too quickly, in others, not quickly enough. It marked the end of a fantastic weekend where my new friendship with Alice was cemented on Saturday. I woke early that morning, lying next to Ang in her double bed, desperate for pain killers and coffee. I was initially surprised to find Alice camped out on the sofa but soon remembered the giggles we'd had the night before after returning from the bar.

We'd gone on to spend the morning shopping. I remembered confessing to Alice I needed some new work clothes that screamed sexy yet professional, and she'd volunteered her skills. Skills Ang assured me were impressive, and I have to say, I wasn't disappointed. I was going to knock Mr. Cullen out of his socks in that elevator on Monday morning.

Which leads me to today and my excited belly as I wait, as usual, outside elevator three. I'm wearing a fitted black dress that, when coupled with the short jacket Alice found for me and the knee high boots, gives me a classic hour glass figure. We're talking eye-drawing cleavage, pulled-in waist leading down to a tightly hugged ass that just begs to be swayed as I walk. She's even helped me pick out the perfect underwear for it, which I'm certain will be admired tonight when Mr. Cullen and I have our second meeting.

As the elevator doors open, I see his eyes snap up, and a small smile ghosts across his lips. I think the outfit has the desired effect. I manage to stand relatively close to him today. Close enough to be able to smell his aftershave. It's a fresh smell, not overpowering, but strong enough that you know he's there and all man. As more people enter, I feel him move closer, making more room. He's close enough I can feel his heat, but he doesn't touch me. As the elevator rises, I get more and more desperate for just the slightest touch from him, but he keeps the polite gap between our bodies, not giving any outward sign that he acknowledges my presence. That is until my floor when I glance at him in the mirrored door, and he meets my eyes. For a brief moment, we connect. My cheeks flame red as I remember watching him in that door as he made me his. As if he knows exactly what I'm thinking, his mouth pulls into a wide smirk and he licks his lips.

Then the doors open and I have to disembark. Today is going to be a long day, waiting for my evening appointment with Mr. Cullen, but at least I get to spend the time daydreaming of all the things we can get up to in the seclusion of his office.

At five o'clock, Victoria pops by my cubicle on her way out of the office. She enquires how I've been getting on with today's urgent tasks. I let her know that I still need some time to finish off the latest work on the Smithfield project, but that I'm just about to send off the latest figures Mike Newton requested. She lets me know that the Smithfield data can be completed the following morning and wishes me a good night as she makes her way to the elevators where I see James waiting for her. Good. They're both leaving. That means I can start the work on my special project.

Ang stops by on her way out, but she already knows I'll be working late tonight, but this is usual for a Monday. I have permission to take extended lunch breaks on Tuesdays and Thursdays, as long as I make up the hours, which I do through a combination of earlier starts and later finishes. She gives me an eyebrow waggle as she leaves me. I'm going to have to have a word with her about being a little more subtle.

As the hour passes, I get more and more anxious, as well as excited, about my meeting with Mr. Cullen. I have so many scenarios going around in my head, all of which are making me squirm in my seat. I decide to let him take the lead though.

~TMITE~

"Thank you, Miss Swan, for a very productive meeting. I look forward to seeing you next Monday for your progress report. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to turn my attention to a couple other pressing matters. Please shut the door on your way out."

What? He can't be dismissing me already, can he? I look at him, blinking from across his desk. He is looking back down at his computer, typing away, as if he's oblivious to me still being sat here.

Our meeting has gone on for a full hour, and the whole time, he hasn't touched me once. From the moment I stepped into the office, we have only talked business: how I was doing putting in the little tracers, which projects we should concentrate on, how much data we were likely to need. There wasn't even any accidental touching of hands, knees, or elbows as we both looked over the data on his laptop. He kept his distance. Him on one side of the desk, me on the other. At least, with his body. His eyes were another matter. I felt them roaming over me, taking in my figure-hugging dress, admiring my cleavage, even roaming down to the fuck me boats Alice had insisted I wear.

By this time, I'm a bundle of nerves. My skin feels on fire, and I'm desperate for some kind of release. A release I was expecting him to give me as soon as we got the business out the way. But it would appear, I was mistaken. Was last week a one-off? Is our relationship going to be completely professional from now on? Does he regret it? So many questions swirl around my mind as I sit there, open-mouthed, staring at him. His phone rings and he answers it, turning sideways in his seat. He then looks at me and raises an eyebrow. It's almost as if he's surprised to still see me there.

Covering the mouthpiece of his phone, he turns to me. "As wonderful as it is to still have your company, Miss Swan, this is a somewhat private conversation."

"Oh, sorry," I splutter, getting to my feet and pulling my files together.

He's silent as I make my way to the door. I'm at the point where I think this is going to be our entire relationship going forward, this totally professional, sterile interaction where only business can be discussed, when he calls me back as I'm about to pass out the door.

"Oh, and, Miss Swan, wear those boots next week, and the jacket, but with the blue shirt you wore last Monday. I've been imagining peeling that one off your body all weekend, and I will be all this week too."

He looks me up and down, and his eyes tell me this isn't over, that he still wants me. I swallow hard, but I'm too stunned to answer, so I just nod my head in agreement, to which he rewards me with his panty-soaking smirk.

"Gregory, so sorry to keep you waiting; I just had an important matter I needed to attend to." He turns back sideways to his desk, and me, and resumes his conversation as I slip out of the room, shut the door, and lean back against it. I take in several deep breaths. My body aches for this man, and he's managed to use just his eyes, and a few closing words, to torture me for a full hour. I feel ready to combust.

The ride down in the elevator, elevator three, to the lobby is pure torture, and the minute I get home, I am in the shower and making use of the pulsating showerhead. The drive home in the taxi, a taxi I'd not called but security guard Embry had informed me was waiting for me by the curb, had been too slow, and I wanted hands on me. But once in the shower, I find the hands I want, need, are not there. Mine just don't cut it. I try all the usual things that, in the past, were guaranteed to do the trick, even ramping up my little bunny to max once I hit my bed. But nothing seems to work. My body knows what it needs and it comes with long dexterous fingers, green penetrating eyes, and a mouth that can make my body tingle. And that's before we get onto the part of his body I crave the most.

It would appear that Mr. Cullen has wreaked me for other men. Hell, he's wreaked me for myself.

The next day, we aren't scheduled to meet up. The plan is for me not to see him for another week. No way is that happening. So I get bold and send him an email. I wait as long as I can. But seeing him in the elevator that morning, looking at his phone and not me, was torture, and by the time I got to the twenty-first floor, I was on the verge of jumping him there and then. I stood as far from him as I could. Pretending I was as unaffected as he was. But, even though I tried not to, I still looked. He was wearing his gray suit that morning. My favorite. I wondered if he knew. I was wearing my blue shirt. The one he'd mentioned the night before. Of course, I did it on purpose.

I lasted until ten. Then I emailed him that I had a problem, and I needed to see him straight away. His response was quick. A part of me wondered if he knew I was going to contact him. I travel up to his office, and this time, his PA directs me straight in. I walk in, and before I even get a chance to close his door properly, he has me hard up against it, causing it to bang loudly. As he kisses me fiercely, his hands roam my body. One is up my shirt and the other up my skirt. I ache for him, for his touch, and he is giving me just what I need.

"You are so wet, Miss Swan," he almost growls against my neck. "Do you want me? Do you want me to fuck you against this door? Do you want me to take you so hard you'll wonder how your body can take it?"

I whimper. I've never whimpered before in my life, but at the moment, I'm incapable of coherent thought let alone speech.

But then he steps back. His hands leave me; his mouth leaves me. He pushes back off the door, removing his body that had been pressed up so hard against mine.

He stands there for a moment, looking me up and down. I look back, panting, trying to regain my composure and understand why he's stopped.

"You would not believe how alluring you look there, against my door, your whole body calling out for me, but we have work to do. You said there was a problem with the project."

What? No. That was a ruse. He knows that was a ruse, doesn't he? Then I see the smirk, that slight turning up of his lip, and his eyes. They tell the whole picture. He is fucking with me. He knows exactly why I am there.

I narrow my eyes at him. "You better finish what you just started, or I swear to God I'm going to go straight out of here and find someone who will." It's an empty threat, but he doesn't need to know that.

A dark look crosses his face, and he moves closer, close but still not touching. "You let any other fucker touch what's mine and I swear to that same God I'll break his legs." I believe him. That was no empty threat.

"Yours, am I? Well, if that's true, you better hurry up and take what's yours."

"Oh, I'll take what's mine, but in my own sweet time." His eyes are still dark with thunder, and the tension in his jaw has not eased up in the slightest.

He stares me down, then turns away, marches to the chair behind his desk, and sits down.

Is he really going to leave me like this? Am I going to have to go another night without his touch, without my release? I stand there, looking at him, with my back pushed hard against his door. I need him. I need what he gave me when I first got to this room.

"Please," I plead.

Our eyes lock, and at my word, I see his features soften slightly.

"Come here," he says, and his words are softer. I walk to him, slowly making my way across his vast floor and around his desk until I'm standing right in front of him. It takes every ounce of strength I have not to throw myself on him, but I desperately need to maintain some pride. He places his hands on my hips then pulls me down, straddling him. He looks me in the eye as his hands come up to undo my shirt and then push it off my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. His fingers then ghost up my back, barely touching me, until they hit my bra strap, that is expertly unclasped, and my bra joins my shirt on the floor. I'm feeling exposed, but he doesn't look down, he doesn't even take the time to touch them. He just shuffles me slightly backward, his hands strong and firm on my hips, to allow himself access to his own fly. He makes equally quick work of undoing his own pants. I glance down quickly as he wiggles slightly, pushing his pants and boxers down just enough to release his very hard and very large cock.

He's just about to reposition me when I remember Ang's words from Friday night and the joy of visiting the clinic with her on Saturday afternoon. Time to show my sensible side. I slip my fingers inside the waistband of my skirt where there exists the perfect little pocket for this scenario, and I pull out a little square foil package and hold it in front his face.

He quirks an eyebrow. "Do you mind?" I ask.

"Of course not, but I assure you I'm clean, so don't worry about the other night." I shrug. I want to believe him, but Ang is right, you can never be sure. "Will you do the honors," he asks with a smirk.

I keep my eyes on him as I use my teeth to rip open the package then roll it down over him, feeling him twitch under my fingers as I do. He is an impressive size, and I can feel the veins running along his length. I imagine how it would feel in my mouth, my tongue running across those ridges, and let out a moan.

"Are you ready now, Miss Swan? Because once I start, there will be no stopping me."

I nod and he lifts me slightly, bringing me back into position above him. He uses one hand to push my underwear to the side as he lines himself up with my opening before he slowly lowers me onto him.

The feeling is intense, and as I feel the connection, we both breathe out a single word in unison, "Fuck." Then we smile slightly at each other. And I know, in this moment, in this connection, that despite his games, his distance, we both want this. We both need this.

Then I start to move. In this position, I feel in charge, in control. I lean forward slightly, resting my hands on the black leather of his chair behind his head. It allows him to take my breast into his mouth, and he takes full advantage.

But it would appear I'm not going to be allowed to be in control for long. I can feel my peak fast approaching when he stands up, taking me with him, and lays me back over his desk. Now, he is the one fucking me. And fuck me he does. I swear I nearly pass out with my orgasm, my body tingling and shaking as he makes me his once again. I look up at him as he too finds his release, a tension running though his body as he cries out. It is a sight to behold. His face, one moment concentrated, controlling, tight, and the next relaxed, calm, at peace.

It doesn't last for long, that look, before he is once again staring me in the eye, the smirk back. "So, did that see to the problem, Miss Swan?"

It certainly did. I go back to work with a smile on my face, totally satisfied, but disappointingly aware I won't be seeing him again until next week.

* * *

A/N As always thanks go to Robfansteinpire and Alice's White Rabbit who helped me get this story in a readable state.


	5. Chapter 5

TMITE Chapter 5

Mrs. Cope is talking to an older woman as I enter the ward, and I stand politely to one side, giving them privacy. I'm not sure if she is a patient or a visitor, but either way, they could be discussing sensitive and personal information, and I have no desire to intrude. God knows, the patients here and their families go through enough.

After a few moments, she glances my way and welcomes me with her usual warm smile that lights up her round cheeks. She is a large lady, who has a motherly way about her.

"Bella, it's great to see you," she greets. "Come over and let me introduce you to Esme Platt. She's our newest recruit to the volunteer program. Esme, let me introduce you to Bella Swan, our founder, organizer, and chief advocate."

I blush at Mrs. Cope's words. Besides, without her, none of this would be happening. If anyone should get the credit it should be her.

However, I shake the hand of the slightly nervous-looking lady. She is immaculately presented with mahogany, shoulder-length hair falling in delicate waves and obvious designer clothes. I'm still in my blue blouse and jacket that I wore this morning to tempt Mr. Cullen, and I know my hair is less than perfect after he'd run his hands through it while banging me hard against his desk. It had been quite a rush, after our unplanned session, to get to my lunch appointment on time, but this is one responsibility I do my best to fulfill every Tuesday and Thursday.

"It's great to meet you," I say, ever grateful for new volunteers. "It may seem a little daunting at first but just be yourself, and I promise you'll get a lot out of it. If you ever need to talk, just let me know."

"Thank you," she replies, smiling fully. "I might hold you to that."

"You're with Ms. Palmer in room 12, Bella," says Mrs. Cope, glancing down at her clipboard, proving she's the real organizer in all of this. "But I promised Jake you'd pop by and see him first." She smiles at me knowingly.

I smile back. "That's good because I've bought him a little present," I say, patting the bag over my shoulder. "Is he in his usual room?"

"As always," she replies as I turn and make my way down the long corridor that runs from the nurse's station to the common room at the other end of the ward. Large windows that line one side of the hallway prevent it from being gloomy. They look out over the hospital parking lot. It's not the best views, but it means the rooms I pass on my right look out over the back where there is a small pond surrounded by a pretty garden. I loved going down there during the summer and sitting among the fragrant flowers. Shade is provided by some mature cherry trees that I imagine will drop a delicate blossom over all the paths in the spring. It's a season I'm looking forward to.

I get to Jake's room and knock before going in. He is propped up in the bed, fiddling with his iPod. He looks up as I enter, and a huge welcoming smile breaks out across his face. He's looking a little gaunter than last week but still cheerful. I'm used to seeing the IV set up next to him, the tube running under his shirt to the port-a-cath in his chest, so I ignore this. But I still need to get used to his newly bald head. It was only last week he'd taken the step of shaving off his remaining hair, admitting defeat to the effects of the cancer drugs. At the start of his treatment, he had lovely, dark locks that he usually allowed to hang down around his shoulders.

I can't help the smile that breaks out on my face as I great my cheerful friend.

"I've got something for you," I say as I pull out the box from my bag. I've gone to the trouble of adding a bow, knowing Jake will appreciate being able to open it like a present.

"You shouldn't be buying me presents," he admonishes. "It's your birthday on Sunday. You should be the one getting gifts." Despite his words, he still eagerly takes the box from me, and I can tell he's excited to open it up.

"Now, Jake, we've spoken about this. I don't really celebrate birthdays. I don't want anything. I still can't believe you managed to get the date out of me."

He grins at me, obviously recalling, as I am, how he tricked me into revealing the date by saying he needed my date-of-birth to log me onto a video game he wanted to play with me one week.

"So, are you going to open it?" I ask, nodding toward the pale blue shoebox with the outrageous pink bow in his hands.

His smile gets impossibly broader. "Did you pick this color scheme, Bells? You do know I'm a man, don't you?"

"Don't worry, Jake. You're still all man to me," I say with a wink. "It was a matter of what I had laying around the house."

"You mean I didn't warrant a special trip to the craft shop? I'm hurt, Bella. Mortally wounded." He clutches his hand to his chest as he fakes distress at my lack of care.

"Shut up already. I can always just take it back if it upsets you that much."

"No, no," he replies quickly, grabbing hold of the present and drawing it close to himself to prevent me getting my hands on it. I laugh as he starts to undo the bow then lifts the lid off the box.

He goes quiet as he pulls out the three beanies inside. The top two, I purchased at the weekend when out with Ang and Alice, but the bottom one, I made myself, using knitting skills my mother taught me when I was young. I'd not picked up my needles in years, not since … well, not in a long time. But this seemed the perfect reason to rekindle an activity that my mom and I had bonded over all those years ago, and, I have to say, I was slightly — well extremely — proud of the results. It was a simple ribbed design in brown with a folded up rim, but I'd managed to get the reducing correct, and I'd kept the stiches even.

"I thought, with fall just round the corner, you could do with something to keep you warm," I say sheepishly.

"Wow! Thanks, Bella. You made this? For me?" I feel the heat rise up my face as my blush develops.

"You deserve it, Jake," I say as I reach out and squeeze his hand. The boy has been through so much. He deserves considerably more than one little present from me. He was originally diagnosed with cancer when he was only thirteen and, since then, has been in remission twice. This time, it seems particularly aggressive, but he remains confident. At least, on the outside.

"Is your dad here today?" I ask, hoping I won't have to leave him on his own for long.

"Yeah, he just popped out to get a coffee and a magazine," he says as he slips my beanie onto his head. As if summoned by our words, the door opens and in walks Jake's father, Billy. He's a friendly man, and Jake's sole surviving parent, his mom having been killed in a car accident when he was young. Being raised by a single dad was one of the things we bonded over.

"Afternoon, Bella. It's good to see you. Are you with Jake today?"

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Black. I just popped in to see how he's doing."

"And to give me presents." Jake beams, indicating his head and holding up the two other beanies for inspection.

"Well, that is mighty kind of her. I hope you said thank you," he says in the tone that all parents use when checking if an errant child is behaving.

Jake rolls his eyes. "Of course." Jake may be eighteen, and technically an adult, but I suppose he'll always be a boy to his dad.

I leave soon after, aware that Mrs. Palmer lives alone, having never married nor had children, leaving her little family support through her treatment.

I find her sitting in her comfy chair, her book laid out on her lap. I know she loves to read but struggles to concentrate enough during her treatment. This is where the volunteers, like me, come into our own. I get to be her eyes while she relaxes and just takes in my words.

"Now, we were about to start chapter three weren't we?" I say as I take the seat next to her and allow her to pass me the book.

She looks at me sheepishly. "My friend, Jean, came round yesterday and kindly read me a chapter," she confesses.

I smile reassuringly, pleased her friends are supporting her. "It looks like I may need to buy this book to fill in the gaps if you're going to read on without me," I tease good-naturedly before launching into chapter four of the romance novel that is Ms. Palmer's choice of escape.

~YMITE~

I'm exhausted when I get back to the office after my extended lunch break. I find the sessions at the hospital really rewarding, but they can also be emotionally demanding. Thankfully, Victoria is tied up in meetings all afternoon, so I'm able to just get my head down and finish the work I was doing for Mike Newton on the Smith, Smith, and Smith account. It was proving a little trickier that I'd first anticipated, and with my distracted mind yesterday and this morning, I've struggled to get the work completed. A couple hours later, I finally have them done, and I whiz them off to the project manager, hoping he's not too pissed by their later arrival.

Feedback soon arrives, with an email from Mike thanking me for my—and I quote "as always, exemplary and diligent work" and for my prompt response. It's nice to get the input. So many managers never bother to even acknowledge the work I do for them, let alone thank me. It also confirms my suspicion that Victoria has been feeding me false deadline dates to keep my busy.

Her tactics only make me more determined to help Mr. Cullen nail her and her accomplices. The gloves are off.

~TMITE~

The rest of the week goes smoothly. I only see Mr. Cullen in the elevator on Wednesday morning, and I wonder if he's getting in later or if he's away from the office on a business trip. There's no way for me to really know, but it's not usual behavior for him to be missing for a few days.

I pop into The Tavern with Ang on Wednesday night for a quick post-work cocktail. She pushes for all the latest details regarding me and Mr. Cullen, insisting that while she isn't getting any herself she has to live vicariously through me. I point out that she could be getting plenty if she'd only allow herself to be asked out by one very attentive barman.

She doesn't say anything. Just sticks out her tongue at me. Perhaps her resolve is slipping.

On Thursday, I read to Mr. Johnson at the hospital. Jake isn't in that day, but Mrs. Cope said he left in a good mood on Tuesday and showed everyone his new hats. I resolve to make him a scarf and, if I can perfect my skills a little, perhaps a pair of gloves in time for winter.

I ask how the new lady got on and if she'd be coming back. Mrs. Cope assures me that she will indeed be there again next Tuesday, and I'm pleased this scheme is expanding in numbers. It's been my little pet project since moving to the city from college. I'd participated in a similar scheme while getting my degree and was disappointed when I contacted the hospital here to find they didn't do anything along these lines. But then I was put through to the ever-efficient Mrs. Cope, and we worked together to get the necessary approvals and piggybacked onto an existing fundraising charity. It's such a simple idea but means so much to the people involved.

Friday, once again, finds me and Ang at The Tavern. I'm taking things easier tonight, not wanting a hangover this weekend. I'm really pleased when I see Alice enter the bar with a couple people I recognize from last weekend. In anticipation of her arrival, Ang and I had spent a few moments in the ladies room, re-accessorizing our outfits. The change didn't go unnoticed by Ben, who seems to be getting bolder by the visit with his outrageous flirting with Ang. Our efforts also appear to be Alice-approved as she doesn't seem to feel the need to re-dress us like last time.

The weekend is spent catching up with Mrs. Cope, planning out and balancing the volunteers with patients, which has become a more demanding task as our numbers increase. The charity we have been working with has a gala coming up, and Mrs. Cope tells me their president wants me to give a talk about the work we're doing. I can't think of anything I'd like less. Standing up in front of a room of strangers is not my idea of fun. But I reluctantly agree when Mrs. Cope reminds me it's the best way to acquire new volunteers and ensure the charity continues to fund us. Not that we need much funding, being a totally volunteer organization.

My dad, Charlie, phones me on Sunday to wish me a happy birthday, and I promise to visit him in a couple weeks so we can catch up. His card and present—an elegant, new pen and notebook combination, along with a mug, proclaiming that I love spreadsheets—had arrived the day before. The joke came from me trying to explain to my dad, who can't abide computers, what my job involved, and in the end giving up and declaring I just spend all day playing with spreadsheets. It's true though. There is something therapeutic in knowing that if you input the right data into the right boxes and manipulate them using the correct formulae you get an answer that is unambiguous. Not like people. People are a little harder to figure out.

But that was the extent of my birthday celebrations. Or so I thought.

When I get into the office on Monday, I find Ang has beaten me in. For her, this is no mean feat. That girl does not like mornings and hates to rise early. But today, for me, she has managed it. Despite my utter embarrassment, I have to admit I'm touched by the effort she has gone to. My cubicle is decorated by a multitude of pink helium balloons, declaring me the birthday girl, and my desk is covered with pink and red confetti and little silver "happy birthday" messages. On top is a very large present done up in a bow that reminds me of the one I put on Jake's present last week.

I'm just wondering how I can hide all the balloons, not really wanting attention drawn to me like this, when she bursts up and releases a party popper over my head while yelling "Happy Birthday" at the top of her lungs.

"Thanks," I say begrudgingly. She just ignores my attitude and thrusts a card into my face.

It's a large one and I open it to reveal a musical, light-up badge. You know, the annoying kind, where you press a button and it sings "Happy Birthday" while lights blink and flash. Ang once again ignores my protests and proceeds to attach the badge to the front of my dress. Another of the short, figure-hugging ones that Alice picked out for me. After all, today I have another meeting with Mr. Cullen. The lustful look in his eye when I entered the elevator a few moments ago indicated I'd picked correctly. It makes me smile to think I may not be the only one whose thoughts are distracted today.

"Now, Bella," says Angela, breaking though my happy thoughts and bringing me back to the reality of a forced birthday celebration, "I know you don't usually celebrate, and I also know I'm a day late, but I figured you deserved to be spoiled. I've made you a cake, and you _will_ come along to the conference room at ten to blow out your candles and accept the congratulations of your colleagues. You will then join me, and a few other select individuals, at The Tavern after work for a few drinks."

"But, Ang. I can't tonight. I have to work late." I raise my eyebrows at her in an attempt to indicate the reason I'll be working late.

"Oh, shit," she exclaims. "That's tonight? Sorry, I didn't realize. Do you think you'd be able to postpone?"

"He's the big boss, Ang," I hiss quietly. "I imagine he's very busy. I know he works late a lot, but he probably has other meetings." Besides, I've been looking forward to this meeting for the last week. I don't really want to postpone.

"Well, it wouldn't hurt to ask," she says with a shrug. "But if the answer is no, I suppose we'll be celebrating without you." She looks disappointed, but what can I do? "Either way," she continues, "enjoy the present, and I'll be swinging past here periodically today, and if I see any of these balloons removed, I will be very disappointed." She looks at me sternly, and I roll my eyes.

The morning passes quickly. I open Angela's present to reveal a new coffee maker just like the one in her apartment that I've been drooling over ever since we'd started working together. I'd not been a big coffee drinker in college, but Ang has really opened my eyes to the delights of a good brew in the morning. In addition, there is a lovely wooden bookend in the shape of an owl. Having moved into my place here only a couple months ago, straight from college, I'm still in the process of decorating. The apartment I rent above a bookshop, just a few miles out of town, is still sparsely furnished and crying out for the addition of some ornaments and personal touches. This present would help to make my shelves look a little less like a library and more like a home.

It would appear that Ang has been spreading the word around the floor, as more presents arrive during the morning, and I am genuinely touched by people's kindness. Even Victoria produces a gift-wrapped package containing a gaudy vase. She hands it over with a fake smile and a promise of buying me a drink later on at the pub. Shit. Now _she's_ expecting me for drinks. I can't tell her I can't come because I have to work late, that I have a meeting with Mr. Cullen. I'm too flustered as she speaks to come up with another excuse—a sick aunt, a visiting nephew, a dental appointment—so I just nod politely.

I ponder the situation while sitting at my desk. I'm going to have to bite the bullet and ask Mr. Cullen if I can meet him another day. As I write up the email, explaining that something has come up and I'm no longer able to work this evening, I fight back a wave of disappointment that sweeps over me.

His reply is quick. And short.

 **To** : Isabella Swan

 **From** : Edward Cullen

 **Subject:** Re: Need to postpone

I'm disappointed to hear that, Miss Swan. Are you free Thursday?

Mr. Cullen

CEO CMH

Three days! Now I have to wait three more days to see him. After replying that Thursday will be fine, I sit and sulk until five when Ang stops by to pick me up, along with a few other colleagues from our floor. As we pass her office, Victoria calls to us to wait for her. She grabs her bag and coat and joins us by the elevator. As we wait, I allow everyone else's good humor to rub off on me. I'd still rather be meeting Mr. Cullen, but it will be nice to get to know some of my colleagues better, and they all seem up for a good time.

As the doors open, we all pile in, laughing and joking, and then I'm hit by a familiar sent. I turn round to see his green eyes looking over our group.

"Mr. Cullen," gushes Victoria, batting her eyelids in an obvious fashion. "We don't often see you riding the elevator at this time of day."

"No," comes his curt reply. He sounds pissed off. Really pissed off. "Somebody canceled an important meeting, so I thought I'd take advantage of the situation." He glances over at me, his eyes full of fire before returning to his phone. Shit.

Then his eyes flash back to me; this time they focus on my chest. "Miss Swan, it's your birthday?" How does he know? Then I realize where his eyes are resting, and I remember the large badge affixed to my top.

"Yes," I reply. "Despite my protests, my colleagues are forcing me to have a few drinks at The Tavern by way of a celebration."

He nods his head, and I see his eyes soften slightly.

"Perhaps you'd like to join us as you are now free," interjects a fawning Victoria.

He glances at her. "I'm afraid that won't be possible," he says without offering any reason why not. "But feel free to put the first round on the company card, a present from myself. I'll talk to Caius in the morning to ensure the expense goes through."

"That's very generous, Mr. Cullen," purrs Victoria, making me feel like I want to throw up.

"Not at all," he says, his attention going back to his phone, effectively ending the conversation. We all ride down the rest of the way to the lobby in total silence. I can see Ang giving me little side looks, and I know she is dying to dissect this interaction.

The doors open at reception, and we all disembark, leaving Mr. Cullen alone to travel down to the basement parking garage. I'm half expecting him to say something else, but as I look back at him, his eyes are firmly attached to his phone.

~TMITE~

The evening is fun. I spend most of my time with Ang, Tyler, Lauren, and Eric from my department. Victoria makes her excuses after the first drink, and it doesn't go unnoticed that she didn't offer to buy a round, or even a drink for me. A few of the project managers I've done work for also turn up. Jessica seems a little off, but Mike buys me a drink and spends some time talking to me before Alice arrives and interrupts. However, he's there again later as I take a breather at the bar.

"Having fun, Bella," he asks.

"I am," I reply with a huge grin. It's been nice to get to know everyone on a less formal basis. I vow to see more of these people socially in the future.

"Well, you've been a real asset to CMW since you started. I know it's early days, and interns usually do at least six to nine months in their first rotation, but I'd love for you to consider joining my team when the time comes."

"Thank you, Mike, it means a lot to me to know you appreciate my work."

He looks puzzled for a moment and leans in closer as if he's going to share a secret. "There have been some strange rumors that your work is under scrutiny, but I can assure you I've had no complaints, and I've heard none from the other project managers, and that's exactly what I told Mr. Cullen when he asked the other week. I fact, I told him just how great I thought you were." He gets a far off look in his eye, and I wonder just how much he's had to drink.

He shakes himself, as if coming out of a daze and turns to me, giving me a big smile. "Here, let me buy you another drink."

"You don't have to do that, Mike."

"Nonsense. It's your birthday, and besides, we're friends, aren't we? Not just work colleagues? Let this friend help you celebrate."

It appears Mike will not be taking no for an answer. "Okay," I relent, "but, as a friend, next time we're out, and it's not my birthday, you have to let me return the favor." This idea seems to appeal to him, and he smiles broadly.

"It's a deal, Bella. Next time we're out together, I will let you buy me a drink."

As our drinks arrive, he raises his in a toast. "To next time, and may it be in the not too distant future." I join him in the clinking of glasses before we return to our friends and colleagues and the rest of the party.

* * *

A/N As always, thanks go to Robfansteinpire and Alice's White Rabbit who helped me get this story in a readable state.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 – The Man in the Elevator**

"It's great to have you helping out, Esme." I smile at our latest recruit.

"You were right, Bella. I got a lot out of it, and it's good to be doing something practical."

I'd bumped into Esme after I finished reading to Ms. Palmer again and discovering I have another two chapters of the book to catch up on. My session had been cut short as Ms. Palmer was tired and ended up falling asleep. I crept out as her gentle snores filled the room, and, as I still had a little time before I needed to be back in the office, when I'd seen Esme, I'd suggested we both grab a coffee.

"What made you get involved?" I ask, always curious about people's motivations.

"I lost someone very dear to me to cancer a few years back. Since then, I've done charity work, helping to raise funds for various cancer charities, but I got to thinking I'd like to do something more hands on, more practical. A friend at one of the charities I support suggested I give this a go."

"I'm sorry for your loss," I say. I know the feelings of helplessness that can go with losing someone to this terrible disease; after all, it's what spurred me on to help out also.

She smiles. "It was a tough time, and I will always miss her. But what about you, Bella? What makes a young girl go to the trouble of setting all this up? Mrs. Cope tells me you're talking at the Christmas gala too?"

"That's right," I confess, "and I'm dreading it."

"Not a fan of public speaking?"

"I turn into a stuttering, red-faced klutz."

"Well, it just so happens, I've done a bit of public speaking in the past. If you want to get together, nearer the time, to go over your speech, and to get some hints and tips, I'd be more than willing to offer my time. God knows this program is a valuable one, and it needs as many volunteers as it can get."

I reach out and squeeze Esme's hand. I know she's been working with Karen today. A young, terminally ill mother of two. The treatment she is receiving is only working to prolong the precious few weeks she has left to spend with her husband and children. I know she's been spending her time in the hospital preparing packages for them to open when she is no longer around. I've assisted her a little, and it was heartrending. Helping her sort through memories and photos to put with letters she is writing. These will be opened by her children at significant birthdays. It's the sort of thing I wished my mom had had time to do before she passed. But by the time they found her cancer, it was progressing hard and fast.

"Thank you, Esme, that would be great," I say.

"So, who are you here to remember?" Esme asks again, no doubt seeing the tears in my eyes.

"My mom." She doesn't ask more, just turns her hand to hold mine, giving me silent support.

"It will be ten years ago this December. I still miss her every day," I say, closing my eyes and letting my mind wander to happy memories of my mom burning toast, doing yoga in the den, teasing my dad.

"I'm sorry," says Esme.

"It was a long time ago, but I still miss her every day, especially at important times, you know. Like when I graduated. She would have been so proud. She'd always wanted to go to college herself but never got the chance. It was she who instilled in me the importance of a good education and a woman having a career so she can support herself."

"I'm sure you make her proud."

"I hope so," I confess although I'm not too sure how she'd feel about my relationship with Mr. Cullen.

~TMITE~

When I arrive back in the office that afternoon there is a pile of internal mail waiting for me. As I take my seat, I start to sort through it. It's mainly reports and general memorandums, but one near the bottom intrigues me. Instead of being flat like the others, this one is bulging, and when I open it, I find a small, flat, square box, the kind you get jewelry in. I open it carefully, and inside I find the most exquisite swan necklace I have ever seen. It is beautiful in its simplicity. The head and body are made of one elegant swirl of silver-colored metal with two further sweeps making up the wing, these being covered in what looks like diamonds but are probably cubic zirconium.

I search inside the envelope to find a card, or any other hint to the sender, but there is nothing. It's empty. Desperate for clues, I look at the front of the envelope to see which department it has come from, but it is new, and all it bears is my name and department written in block letters. It's not in a distinctive handwriting; it could be anyone's.

"Wow! That is beautiful!" exclaims Angela as she passes my cubicle while I'm still pondering the mystery. "Here let me put it on you."

I turn around and lift up my hair, letting her clasp the swan around my neck.

"Who's it from?"

"I don't know," I confess. "It came in the internal mail, so it must be from someone at work, but they didn't put a card with it."

"Ohhh, a secret admirer." Ang's eyes are wide, and she is practically buzzing, like a wind-up toy about to be let go.

I roll my eyes. "I expect they just forgot to put the card in the envelope. I'm sure whoever sent it will realize and let me know in due course." Secret admirer! As if. This is an adult place of work not a middle school around Valentine's Day.

"Don't spoil my fun, Swan." Ang scowls at me. Then her eyes go wide. "You don't think it's from Mr. Cullen, do you?" she whispers.

"Don't be stupid. He wouldn't buy me a present; besides, if he did, I'm sure he'd put his name to it. I don't think he's the sort for anonymous gestures."

"Well, you know him better than I do," she admits although I think about her words as the afternoon wears on, and I realize I really don't know him that well either. Maybe I'm wrong and the present is from him. Certainly, no one else has owned up to it yet, and I've still not received a card. I suppose I could just ask him when I see him after work on Thursday.

~TMITE~

I'm both nervous and excited riding up to see Mr. Cullen at six-thirty that Thursday. Nervous because I'm not sure if he's still pissed off at me for canceling on him on Monday. Excited because … well, because I am going to be seeing Mr. Cullen. He'd not been in the elevator the previous two mornings, and I speculated that he might be out the office, and then this morning, he didn't even register my presence.

I'm expecting some fun though. I got a request—no, a demand—through email from him earlier today. I'm to ensure I've removed my underwear before the meeting. For good measure, while following his request in the ladies room, I also stuff my bra into my bag. No point taking half measures, I reason. I feel almost naked riding up to his office with nothing under my short skirt. I can feel the silky material of my shirt moving across my nipples, causing them to pucker in anticipation of his hands moving over them later.

It is safe to say that by the time I arrive at his office, I'm already in a state of desire. I knock timidly at the door. There's no reply so I gingerly push it open a little and peek round, calling out his name as I do.

"I'll be right with you." I hear his deep, seductive voice call from an adjoining room. "Just take a seat."

I look around the room and contemplate sitting at the less formal couch area, but as all our meetings so far have been at his desk, I opt for the office chair I usually use. Left on my own in his office for the first time, without his presence to distract me, I get to take a proper look around. His room is very stark. There are no pictures, and the walls are plain white. The wall behind his desk is made up of floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over the city skyline where dusk is starting to fall, the sun just glinting off the top of some of the offices opposite.

The only real decoration in the room is a large, solid wood bookcase. It is filled to the rafters with books of every shape and color. I feel myself drawn to it. What sort of books would a man like Mr. Cullen have in his office? I wonder if he's an avid reader. I suspect most of the ones here are business texts and autobiographies of other businessmen. The sort of books to make him look smart, like he knows his subject. Before I know it, I'm in front of the bookshelf, running my hands over the spines of the tomes.

I pick one at random, pull it out, and I'm shocked. Not only is it not a business text, but it is a period drama. My kind of book. I run my hand reverently over the hardback cover of the Jane Austin in my hand before I flick it open and scrutinize the first page. Holy cow, this is a first edition of _Persuasion_. This must be worth a fortune. I close it delicately and place it back in its slot on the shelf. I pull out and read a few other titles, surprised both by the genres and the variety present. I see Homer's _Odyssey_ , Orwell's _1984_ , Shelley's _Frankenstein_ , Salinger's _Catcher in the Rye_ , as well as several by Shakespeare. Most seem to be first editions, or elaborate limited edition collectors' copies. Nestled in among them, as if hiding, I come across the odd thin publication that looks like a magazine. I pull one out and find it's a comic book. It looks old but in good condition and is laying inside a thin plastic dust jacket. I wonder if it's also rare and expensive, just like the books it lays between.

I'm just putting the comic book back into its slot when I hear a throat clear behind me. Busted!

"Found anything interesting?"

I slowly turn around. Standing behind me is Mr. Cullen as I've never seen him before. Instead of the usual smart, crisp business suit, he is dressed in workout clothes: a white T-shirt with loose-fitting black shorts. His hair is disheveled, and he has obviously been exercising. His shirt clings to his chest and abs, and my eyes are drawn to his physique.

"You're sweaty?" It comes out sounding half question, half statement, and I'm not really sure why I said it.

He smirks at me as I obviously stare at his body. "I lost track of time in the gym. I was just going to jump in the shower, but I thought I'd check that you were comfortable first."

"Don't change on my account," I blurt out before I can stop myself. Sweaty, muscular Mr. Cullen seems to be doing things to my libido. I can't take my eyes off him. God, I want him. Now.

He cocks his head to one side and studies me for a moment, and I feel my breathing get heavier as I think of all the things I'd love to do to this buff specimen of manhood. Then he's stalking toward me, stopping only inches away. He puts his hands on the bookcase behind me, one on either side of my head.

"So you like your men hot and sweaty, do you, Miss Swan?" he practically purrs at me. "Do you want me to take you up against this bookcase? Or perhaps you'd like to join me in the shower? Help me scrub down my body? Then I could return the favor. Ensuring you are clean … everywhere." As he says the last word, he looks me up and down, lingering on where he must know I'm fully exposed under my clothes.

I swallow. I seem to have suddenly lost the ability to speak.

"Did you do as I asked in my email, sugar lips?" As he talks, his right hand leaves the bookcase and gently lands on the outside of my thigh. "Should I find out now? Or should we wait until after we work?"

 _Now, please, now!_ my mind cries out, and I clench my thighs together in anticipation of his touch. I decide it would be best not to risk talking. His thumb caresses my skin, passing up under the hem of my skirt, and everywhere it touches seems to catch on fire.

He leans back slightly, the sexy smirk out in full now. He knows exactly the power he has over me. His left hand runs down the side of my face, my neck, and into my cleavage. "I see you removed your bra too. You naughty girl." As his hands go lower, his eyes drift to my necklace. The one from the mysterious benefactor.

"This is new. Birthday present? It looks expensive. From a boyfriend perhaps?" He quirks an eyebrow, and I see tension in his jaw.

So it's not from him. I'm strangely disappointed. "I don't have a boyfriend. Do you really think I'd be here if I did?"

"I'd hope not," he almost growls, "but I do think we need to talk before we continue."

Talk? What! No. We need to get down to action. But I have no time to argue as he takes my hand and leads me over to the couch. He directs me to sit and lowers himself next to me, still clasping my hand. His fingers stroke up the inside of my wrist, making contact with the lovely, thoughtful present Jake and his dad gave me for my birthday. It's a beautiful charm bracelet. Jake explained that he could only afford the one charm at the moment, and even that was with his dad's help, but he hoped, once he beat the cancer again, he'd be able to add to it for future birthdays and Christmases. It warmed my heart to have him talking so positively about the future despite all he's going through.

Mr. Cullen picks up my wrist and studies the small wolf charm. Jake had explained that it symbolized protection, and he hoped it would protect me the way he felt I protected him from the worst of his cancer. It was a really touching gesture, and I smiled fondly as I remembered his words.

I realize Mr. Cullen is studying my face, a hard look in his eye. "This one means a lot to you, doesn't it? You may not have a boyfriend, but this is from someone special. Do I need to worry about you leaving me for a man who can offer you more?"

I look into his eyes, trying to figure out where this is going. Is he feeling insecure? Does he not know what he does to me? And more? What does he mean by that? There are so many emotions that seem to be flashing through the dark verdant depths of his irises that I can't keep up.

"Jake's just a friend," I clarify.

He keeps watching me intently, obviously searching for the truth of what I'm saying. "Good," he finally says. "It may be selfish of me, especially in light of what I'm about to say to you. In fact, I know it is, but I can't help but be possessive of you." His free hand moves over my thigh in a gesture of ownership.

"What are you going to say?" I'm a little nervous about where this is going.

"I'm laying my cards on the table, Bella. I'm going to be honest with you, and I expect you to be the same. Where do you see this relationship going?"

Wow, he asks now? When I'm feeling horny and desperate, sitting in front of him wearing no bra or underwear? As he caresses my thigh with those long fingers of his. Fingers I remember can work magic when they go just a little higher.

I take a deep breath and decided to be as honest as I can. "Umm, I'm not sure. I mean, I like what we have going on, but I'm not really looking for a serious relationship at the moment, or any relationship for that matter. I want to spend some time concentrating on my career, on the things that are important to me. I'm kind of enjoying being single, not having someone else to look out for. I guess I just assumed this was sex and nothing else."

I see the tension leave his face and shoulders. "You don't know how happy it makes me to hear that, sugar, and I hope you mean it." He keeps watching my eyes as he continues. "The truth is, I think we have something good here, and I'd like it to continue, but you have to know some things about me. I don't date. I have no interest in having a girlfriend. I find you extremely attractive. You're sexy, confident, intelligent, and every time I see you, I can't wait until I'm able to touch you, kiss you, and fuck you. I think we can have some amazing sex. The things I could make your body feel. But if you're expecting more from this relationship than that, we need to stop now because that is all that is on offer. So, Miss Swan, what do you say? Is that enough for you?"

I think about where I am in my life, and the vows I made to myself after Alex. I really don't want a boyfriend at the moment, and even if I did, would I choose the controlling, possessive, and emotionally unavailable Mr. Cullen? If it wasn't for the amazing way he made my body feel, probably not. But the sex is good. So good. And the controlling, possessive side of him does seem to do something to me. Something that makes my lady parts tingle.

So, hell to the yeah! I'll take amazing, earth-moving sex with this man. And the fact that I don't have to spend time with him outside this office is probably a bonus. No having to change my plans to fit around him. No having to pander to his delicate male ego. No having to put his needs above mine.

"So I get to have shit-hot sex with this amazing body—" my eyes run up and down his torso as I gesture towards him "—with no strings attached, no pressure to date or meet the parents. Outside this room, we're both free agents."

A look of fire crosses his face, and I feel his hand on my thigh grip me firmer. "Fuck no. This is where the selfish part of me kicks in. I do not share. Your body is mine and mine alone. I will not tolerate anyone else laying a finger on what is mine. Do I make myself clear?"

I swallow again. Why does this possessive side of him turn me on so much? He's acting like a caveman, but, if I were wearing panties, they would be soaked by now.

"Crystal," I manage to say. "But, that cuts both ways. If I'm not allowed to see other men, you certainly aren't allowed to sleep with or date other women."

"I've already told you, I have no interest in dating, and I can assure you, no other woman will be getting a look while I'm able to get my hands on this." The hand on my thigh is suddenly higher. Cupping me just there, in my most intimate area. His other hand comes down to land on my breast, fondling and squeezing it through my shirt. I let out a startled breath.

"And if I want out? If I say it's over?"

"If you decide you want no more of this–" his fingers on my breast squeeze my pert nipple through my delicate blouse, and the middle finger of his other hand runs up my slit and across my clit, both actions making me tingle all over "–then just say the word, and I will let you walk away." He leans in and starts to kiss up my neck. When he reaches my ear, his teeth pull on my lobe. It's obvious he thinks talking is done, but I have a couple further points I want clarified. He's not running this show entirely, and as Angela said, he has all the power at the moment.

"And what about my job?" I ask, a little breathless, but what's a girl to do when a man has his hand up her skirt, applying a delicate pressure to her clitoris while fondling her breast and has just starting kissing that delicate piece of skin behind her ear and melts her every time? I'm just lucky my brain is still functioning.

"What about your job?" he purrs into my ear, starting to kiss down my jawline.

I answer before he can get to my lips and render me useless, "I want an assurance from you that you won't interfere in my career, and if things end between us, I need to know I'll still have a job, that my career isn't dependent on me continuing to have sex with you."

He pulls back and looks me in the eye. "This is important to you, isn't it?" His hand leaves my breast, and he rubs his chin as I nod. I swallow, worried what his response is going to be. "Here's the problem then. How do I prove to you that I'm not that much of a bastard? But then I suppose it cuts both ways. How do I know you aren't just here to forward your career? How do I know you aren't going to use our time together to blackmail me into progressing you in the company?"

I hadn't thought of that. It really isn't anything I'd ever do. "I guess it comes down to trust," I say.

"Trust? I don't usually trust easily, Miss Swan. And neither should you." I watch him think for a moment. "I can give you all the assurances I want, but I think it all comes down to mutually assured destruction."

"Pardon?"

"If I fire you, you can sue my ass for unfair dismissal, letting everyone know what a sleazy boss I really am, destroying my reputation. Alternatively, if you make threats to expose this relationship unless I promote you, I will call your bluff, letting everyone know you were trying to sleep your way to the top. No one will hire you again. Under both scenarios, we both lose. I don't like to lose, so I'll do everything I can to prevent those outcomes. What about you, Miss Swan?"

I try to clarify what I think he's saying. "Basically, you're saying that exposing this affair will be detrimental to both of us. While meeting up here in private ..." I trail off, looking up into his eyes.

"… has a lot of benefits, for both of us." He smirks as he finishes my sentence, and at the same time, his long fingers, which had been resting passively between my legs, rub between my exposed lips, sending a bolt of energy up through me, making me gasp.

"Benefits?" I manage to whisper out.

"Oh, yes, Miss Swan. There are numerous benefits we can both get from this situation." As he talks, he leans closer until I can feel his breath on my face, his lips almost touching mine. "Benefits to me, like hearing you moan as I push my fingers deep inside you—" And there they are, as he talks, his long fingers up inside me. They slide in easily, getting coated by my wetness, and, as he knew I would, I let out an involuntary moan. "Benefits like hearing you scream my name as you pulse around my cock while I suck on your delicious tits." He bends down and takes one on my nipples into his mouth, sucking roughly, then giving it a small nip with his teeth before looking back up at me while his fingers continue to work me over under my skirt. "Benefits like being able to suck on your clit, giving you orgasm after orgasm." In one smooth move, he slips off the couch, kneeling in front of me, pulling me forward, pushing my skirt up, and planting his mouth just where he promised it.

"Fuck, that feels so good. I like the sound of these benefits," I mutter, looking down at him as his eyes look up at me from between my legs.

He gives me a few quick licks, teasing my clit, before he pulls back slightly with his mouth, letting his long fingers take over, keeping the pressure building in me. "So, Miss Swan, do these benefits outweigh the risks? Or do we stop now and walk away?"

Fuck, no way is he stopping. Besides, he's right; he has as much to lose as I do if what we've been doing gets out. I worry for half a second what that says about me. That I'm willing to risk my professional reputation for great sex with this smoking hot man. But then he's willing to risk his reputation for sex with me, and I'm nowhere near as hot as he is. But then I stop thinking and just feel as his mouth is once again on me, licking from my slit, where his two fingers are rhythmically entering me, to my clit, causing me to moan and push my hips up toward him, searching for more.

His fingers abruptly stop moving, and his mouth pulls back. "I'm still waiting for an answer, Miss Swan. Do you trust me to not abuse my position? Do we stop or do we keep going?"

"Don't stop," I whisper. "I don't want us to stop. I want this. I trust you. Just don't make me regret it."

He looks at me very seriously for a moment, and there is vulnerability in his eyes. "I promise you, Bella, I won't take advantage of you. I won't break your trust in me." The hand that's not between my legs reaches up and stroke my cheek. It is a surprisingly tender gesture. There is so much truth in his eyes, and I believe him. I don't believe he will intentionally hurt me.

And then the moment passes, and the look in his eyes turns totally feral, dark and controlling. His mouth turns up into a wicked smirk. "But now, I think it's time to make you scream my name." His fingers start to move again. "Remember, I want to hear it loud and clear as you come all over my face."

"Oh, God," I pant as his breath fans out over my wet core, his words helping to lift me higher.

"Not God, Bella, Edward. That's what you need to scream: Edward."

I nod my head at him as his grinning mouth goes back to work. And work he does, his eyes never leaving mine as he licks, sucks, and bites my most delicate area. Never stopping until I throw my head back and roar his name.

* * *

A/N: Finally got this uploaded, despite ffn's best efforts to prevent me! I hope you like it. Let me know what you think.

I have a facebook page for my writing. I've uploaded a picture of Bella's necklace, as well as the mug Charlie gave her and the beanie she made for Jake. I'm just Mountain Top over there. Look me up, it will be great to see you.

Thanks as always to Robfansteinpire and Alice's White Rabbit who give me valuable feedback on my writing, as well as sorting our my comers.

As a P.S. (that should not be a P.S.) I'd like to send my thoughts out to everyone in Orlando at the moment. You are in the thoughts of many people out in this part of the world.


	7. Chapter 7

**The Man in the Elevator – Chapter 7**

The next few weeks settle into a predictable pattern. I work late on Mondays and Thursdays, and most days, I end up in Mr. Cullen's office, giving him a report on my progress before we both give into our desires. By now, I can't think of one surface in his office we have not explored. He's even had me against the large floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out over the city night. The cold, hard glass a contrast to his hot, hard body. As I looked down at the lights of cars moving below us, he made me see stars. Often, it is quick and dirty, having driven each other to desperation with looks and brief touches during our meeting, but at other times, we take our time, exploring each other's bodies, learning through touch how well they can work together.

"Day dreaming, Bella?"

I blush as I'm pulled from my reminiscing by Mike. "Hi, Mike, sorry. I was just thinking for a moment. Are you looking for the Taylor account numbers? If so, I gave them to Victoria on Friday to pass on to you."

Victoria is still continuing the charade of checking all my work before it can be sent out.

"Oh, no—" he waves his hand dismissively "—I'm sure Victoria will get them to me in plenty of time. I was actually hoping to catch you."

"Oh?" I ask, hoping this is going to be work-related. Mike has been finding excuses lately to stop by and talk to me, and although I'm flattered by the attention, I'm really not interested. He seems nice enough, but he doesn't make my heart race or my breath catch. Not the way Mr. Cullen does with just a look. I certainly have no desire to see him naked. I give a slight involuntary shudder at the thought.

Mike doesn't seem to notice and plows on. "I was wondering if you'd given any thought to your next rotation within the company? You're obviously bright, and I'm sure there will be a lot of people who would love you to join their team, but you can't just leave these things to chance. You need to be laying the foundations now with the department you'd like to join. With that in mind, I thought we could grab a drink after work sometime, or perhaps a meal even. I could help you think over your options, give you some more experienced input, try and convince you my team is your best option."

Mike is right. I do need to be giving this some serious thought, to start being proactive, and his guidance would really help, even if it turns out just to be a sales pitch to work for him. But I don't think meeting up outside of the office would be the best idea.

"That's kind of you to offer your expertise, Mike, but I don't know if going out after work would be appropriate. Maybe we could discuss things over lunch in the canteen? I think it would be best to keep things professional, especially if you might end up being my boss." And besides, what would Mr. Cullen think?

"I understand, Bella." He doesn't seem offended by the brush off as he smiles at me. "Lunch sounds great. I'm free today if you are? You know I'd love to have you join our team; I think you'd have a lot to offer us. Perhaps I could take you through some of the projects we've been working on, get you up to speed in case you do decide to join us."

I glance at the time on my computer screen and notice it's nearly twelve. Mondays really seem to drag, especially since I started having something to look forward to after work.

"I'd like that Mike. I'd love to hear about some of those projects." It's not a lie. I've looked a little into some of the work Mike's team is involved with, and it's an area that fascinates me. Their department offers custom-made security systems to businesses and individuals. Mike heads up the sales and marketing team, but from what I can see, they are required to work closely with the technical guys, situated several floors below us, as well as offering support to past clients who want to upgrade or modify their systems, some of whom are the biggest businesses in America. It's currently a small branch of CMH, but I know it is seen as an important part of the business portfolio, and one Mr. Cullen is trying to grow. It would be a good place to start to establish myself, to get myself known. A lunch meeting with Mike to discuss my options would be a good idea. "We could go now, if you are available," I offer.

"Fantastic," says Mike, his face lighting up.

I grab my purse and follow him to the elevators, taking the number two down to the staff canteen. We both grab a sandwich and a quiet table where we can talk, and I soon find myself engrossed in our conversation. Mike is passionate about what he does and a real advocate of his team's successes, but he also has a fun side. He's just regaling me with a story about sitting through a meeting with his team and the CEO of a national manufacturing corporation, who had spent the whole meeting with a large piece of tissue paper stuck in his rather bushy beard.

"Didn't you try and point it out to him?" I ask, laughing at Mike's impression of it wobbling about as the man spoke.

"I did when he first came in, but he refused to understand the hint, so in the end, I gave up. It was so hard to concentrate. I've no idea how Michelle managed to deliver her presentation. As soon as he left, we all just fell about in hysterics. I can't even imagine how he got it in there. It was really tangled up, with these long strands hanging down and weaving around it."

He once again gives a visual representation, waving his hand about under his chin, swinging it around as I laugh.

"I can see you'll fit into the team," says Mike, smiling at me as he places his hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Despite Mike's recent flirting, this feels more like a friendly gesture. I guess he's decided he wants to be professional too, if we are going to be working together.

"It sounds like a good place to work," I confirm, smiling back. Then my eyes are drawn to a movement behind him. I look up into two piercing green eyes. He is just paying the cashier, holding a packet of sandwiches in his hand, but he's looking my way, and his eyes are thunder. What's got him all riled up? Not my meeting with Mike, surely? His eyes don't leave mine as he is handed his change, then he marches across the canteen and out through the door.

"Are you okay?" asks Mike as he glances over his shoulder, just missing Mr. Cullen storming out the exit with a loud bang. "Who was that?" he asks.

"Mr. Cullen."

"Oh? You don't see him down here very often. But then I heard his PA is off sick. Maybe he's sacked the temp already. I understand he's very demanding, and before Tanya, he went through at least one a month. Maybe that's why he's pissed off. The mighty Mr. Cullen has been forced to perform the menial task of collecting his own lunch for once. You know these executives, Bella; I sometimes wonder if they are able to even tie their own shoelaces without their PA's help. Once I get to the top floors, if you ever see me acting like that, you have my permission to slap me."

I chuckle, knowing Mr. Cullen's reputation for keeping himself to himself and not mixing with his employees. "I'll hold you to that, Mike," I agree. "That's if I'm not up there acting just as pampered alongside you."

He nods at me. "I like your ambition, Bella; with that and your obvious intelligence, you should go far."

I blush at his compliment, and he laughs.

"Come on; I should get you back to the office before Victoria thinks you've done a runner to get away from her overpowering scrutiny."

"You've noticed that?" I ask, grimacing.

"She really doesn't seem to like you, which is strange. When you first started, she was singing your praises all over the shop. Any idea what you did?"

Obviously, I know. But I can't bring that up with Mike. I just hope other people in the company don't hold it against me.

"None at all, but I hope it doesn't put you off having me work for you?"

"I make up my own mind, Bella, and you've impressed me. So, no, I don't see any problems with you joining my team, if that's the direction you decide to go. But I have a feeling I may have competition for your talents."

"Oh?" I query. "Who else is interested?"

"Oh, no, Bella. If they want you, they're going to have to let you know themselves. I'm not doing their work for them. I don't intend to play fair when it comes to getting the best talent on my team."

I'm positively glowing red with Mike's compliments. He chuckles again as he picks up our trays, taking them to the drop off hatch before leading me back toward the elevators.

~TMitE~

I have to admit to being a little anxious as I travel up to Mr. Cullen's that evening. The look he gave me in the canteen was like fire, and I hope it wasn't seeing me laughing with Mike that upset him. I knock tentatively at the door before pushing it open slowly at his request for me to enter. Before I even get a chance to enter the room fully, I feel myself being pulled inside then pushed up hard against it. This is new. We usually get any work discussion out the way before we get onto more fun activities. Not that I'm complaining.

His hands seem to be everywhere, one running up my thigh while the other explores under my top, and he's kissing my neck, up toward my ear. There seems to be a desperation in his actions, like he needs to reassure himself I'm here. It's then I realize he's talking as his mouth moves over my body.

"Mine. This body? It belongs to me. No man touches it but me. Especially not that fucker Mike. Does he make you feel the way I make you feel? Does he make you wet the way I make you wet? Do your nipples get hard for him the way they do for me? Does he make you moan and scream the way I make you moan and scream? I don't think so. It's only me. Only me who gets to do this to you. I get your moans, your screams, your orgasms. They are mine. All mine."

"Yes," I pant back. "All yours. No one else makes me feel like this. Nobody has ever set my body on fire the way you do. Only you do this to me. Only you make me feel this way."

My reassurance seems to spur him on more and more, and before I know it, I hear a zipper and then feel him there. I'm so caught up in his passion, in his desire for me, his possession of me, that I nearly forget myself, like I did those first few times. I rise through the fog enough to mutter my demand, "Condom."

"Fuck," he exclaims. "Please, Bella. I want to feel you with nothing between us. You know I'm clean. You saw the test results. You know I'm not sleeping with anyone else. Please, let me feel you."

I'd love to trust him. But Angela is right. I've trusted before, and it turned out to be a mistake, and a painful one at that. The memories are like a cold bucket of water to my libido. If I couldn't trust Alex, how can I trust Edward? You know what they say: once bitten, twice shy.

"I'm sorry," I mumble out, shaking my head.

He pulls back slightly, and I can feel him looking at me. "You still don't trust me, do you?" I'm looking down, and he puts his fingers under my chin to bring my face up to his. "I would never do anything to hurt you like that. I would never put your health at risk. I couldn't do that to you. You're … well, you're my Sugar Lips. I need to keep you safe."

"I'm sorry," I repeat. "It's not you. It's just I've made mistakes in the past. I don't want to go through that again." I shudder slightly, thinking over the painful past memories.

"Did someone hurt you, Sugar?" A look of fire once again enters his eyes, and the tension is back in his jaw. "You know I'd never make you do anything you don't want to do, don't you?" I nod slightly. "If you're not comfortable, then of course, we'll keep using condoms." I nod again. He pulls back, zips himself back in, then takes my hand and leads me over to his desk.

Once there, he sits down in his big chair, pulling me onto his lap sideways and turning us toward his laptop, which is open to our latest results.

"Now, my understanding is that this number is the one that was changed between the file being sent to Caius and him sending it back to James? This is our first bit of evidence linking him directly to the tampering."

I look at him. My head is still reeling from the fast change of pace. I'm also puzzled by our new working position. During our business talk, we usually sit beside each other or across the desk. Things are normally professional during the meeting. I giggle at the thought of talking business while sitting on his lap, and the sound seems to dispel the tension in the air.

"What?" he asks, smiling at me.

I just use my arms to indicate my current position.

"I just felt the need to keep you close," he says, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"Why?" I ask. "Why the sudden over-possessiveness. What's caused this today?"

He shrugs, but I keep looking at him, wanting answers, staring him down.

"Do you like him?" he eventually asks. "I can see the attraction, in a boy next door kind of way. You'd be able to have a proper relationship with _him_."

"Who?" I'm sure I know the answer, but I want him to say it.

"Newton."

"Mike?" I can't help it, but a small laugh escapes. The idea I'd be interested in Mike that way really is funny.

"It's not funny, Sugar," he says through gritted teeth. "Remember, I do not share. If you want to start something with him, you better tell me now."

I contemplate winding him up for a moment, but the look in his eyes tells me it wouldn't be a good idea. "I'm not interest in Mike in that way. He's a great guy, fun, and he appreciates my work. I'd love to work on his team. I think I could learn a lot from him, and it would open up so many doors. But I don't feel any attraction toward him." I run my hands up his chest and start to undo his buttons as I talk. "He doesn't make my heart race like you do. He doesn't turn me on with just a look."

"I turn you on with just a look, do I?" He gives me a smug look as he runs his hand up my thigh and under the edge of my skirt. I roll my eyes at him. His ego doesn't need any more building up by me.

But then his face turns melancholy again. "But one day, it's going to happen. You're going to meet someone you want a relationship with, and you're going to leave me." He reaches up with his hand and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear before leaning in and giving me a soft kiss. As he does, he runs his hand down my arm toward my hand. "But until then, you're mine," he whispers in my ear. "Besides, we both know there is no one out there who can turn you on like I do. They may take you out and wine and dine you and give you romantic presents." His fingers run along my charm bracelet, making contact with the wolf charm that Jake gave me. "But they'll never make you come as hard as I do. No one will make your body feel the way mine can make you feel."

"Arrogant much," I pant at him as he undoes my blouse and takes my breast into his mouth.

"Tell me it's not true," he says as he pushes my legs apart and his fingers start to explore under my skirt, causing my breath to stutter as waves of pleasure course through me. I don't think it's going to take him long to get me off today.

"Just shut up and fuck me already."

He laughs and plunges his fingers into me, deep and swift, making me cry out at the intense feelings that flow through my body. "We'll get to that, Sugar, but first, I want to hear you scream." And scream I do as he plays my body like a master musician.

As I come down from my high, I feel him lift me and swing me round so I'm straddling him. He rummages in his desk drawer, and he pulls out a condom, showing it to me, before releasing himself from his pants, opening the package, and sliding it on.

"Happy?" he asked.

"I'll be happier when that's inside me," I reply, and he once again laughs. "Now fuck me already," I demand.

"I've created a monster," he says as he lifts me up and lets me lower myself down over him.

"You want to be in charge? Want to boss me around, little girl? Well, go for it. Take me, make me yours." As he speaks, he leans back in his chair, a sexy smirk on his face, and places his hands behind his head. I look at him for a moment. Is he really going to let me be in charge? Let me run the show. This is a day for firsts.

I lean forward, placing my hands on his chest as I slowly move my hips up and down, relishing in the feel of him deep inside me. I keep up my slow movements, running my hands over his chest, enjoying the slow build. His hips start to move, and I detect him trying to quicken the pace.

"Oh, no," I admonish him. "I'm in charge, remember."

"You're killing me here," he says. "At least, let me touch you. You know you want me to."

I continue to rise and fall on him as I ponder where I'd like his hands and his mouth. Just thinking about the things I know they are capable of doing to my body brings me closer to my release. I smile at him. "Okay, you can touch me."

Edward doesn't need to be told twice. His hands leave his head and land on my thighs, his right hand slides between us, rubbing over my clit and back to where we are joined, and I know he's feeling himself enter me.

"Put your hand where mine is," he demands. "It is so fucking hot, feeling me move inside you, how wet you are, how much you're enjoying this. I want to feel your hand touching me as I enter you."

I raise an eyebrow at him. It would appear he's struggling with allowing me to be in charge. "Oh, God, Bella, just fucking do it," he growls at me.

"I'll do it if you use that beautiful, dirty mouth on my nipples."

"Fuck, yes, I thought you'd never ask." His hands pull back to my thighs as he leans forward, taking my right nipple into his mouth, alternating biting down just to the point of pain with soft, wet, soothing licks. The feelings make me start to speed up my movements, suddenly wanting, needing, more.

His hand leaves my thigh and takes one of my hands from his chest, moving it down his body toward where we're joined, and I remember our deal. I push my fingers down between our bodies until I reach his thick, hard cock. I move my fingers around it, feeling it pulsate as it enters and leaves my body. It is slick with my juices, and the feel of him is so erotic. I start to lean back, and he comes with me, still attached to my chest with his lips, teeth, and tongue. The change of angle is all I need. As I start to come, I reach back with the hand that is not holding the base of his cock and cup his balls as I pulsate round him.

I feel him ram me down hard onto him, his hands holding on tight to my hips as he too shudders and cries out, joining me in my ecstasy.

After we both recover, we do indeed spend the rest of the meeting with me sitting on his lap. He pulls my shirt over my breasts, claiming it's too distracting having them on display, and then proceeds to touch and fondle them under the material at every available opportunity.

Once we've finished discussing the latest findings that give us our first piece of evidence to implicate Caius Volturi in the embezzlement, he lifts me up and leads me over to the couch, saying he does actually have something to discuss with me.

"You said earlier that you'd love to work on Mike Newton's team?"

"Hell, yeah! The projects his team work on really interest me, and with it being a growth area, it's a good opportunity for me to make my mark. I think I'd fit in well, and I'd learn a lot. If I do well there then it opens up so many opportunities for the future."

I'm sat next to him on the couch, and his pulls my legs up over his, so I'm turned toward him.

He smiles at me in a curious way. "Your eyes light up when you talk about your career and your job. It excites you, doesn't it? Taking on new challenges, pushing yourself to be the best you can be."

I nod eagerly. "I've worked hard to get the qualifications I needed and the skills a company like this was looking for, and now I'm keen to put them to good use and gain more."

"You've been with the company for, what, four months now?"

"That's right," I say, wondering where this is going as Mr. Cullen's brow creases.

"Mr. Newton put in a request to HR today for you to join his team. Victoria approved it, which is hardly surprising considering how keen she is to get rid of you based on your discoveries. It would appear Mike is really pushing to get you as soon as he can, and he does appear to have a couple openings that would really suit you."

I can't hide my excitement. To get out from under Victoria and to move onto the next step in my career this soon. It's a dream come true.

"So I'm going to get to work on Mike's team? When? Soon?"

A pained expression crosses Edward's face, and he closes his eyes, letting his head fall back against the couch. "I promised you I wouldn't interfere in your career, and I promise that the move will happen at some point."

My excitement starts to subside, I don't like where this seems to be heading. He opens his eyes and looks back at me. "I'm sorry, Sugar. The work you're doing on this project is too important. I can't lose you as my insider at this point. Give it a month, two tops, and we'll have all the evidence we need, then you can move on to any department you want. I'll make it happen; I am the boss after all. Besides, it's unheard of for interns to move on from their initial assignment this early. The earliest we've done it in the past has been six months, so it won't look odd if the request is denied at this point."

I try to hide my disappointment. I know he's right. I need to finish the job I'm doing. I'm as keen as he is for Victoria and James to be taken down, but it would have been such a good opportunity, and a good step up the ladder, and I can't help but worry this opportunity will pass and won't be there once this project's finished.

"I'm sorry," he says, reaching out and stroking my cheek. "I promise I will personally make it happen once we nail these three, or if you decide you want to work for someone else, which I'd personally prefer, I'll make that happen. Anything you want. Just not now, not when we're making such good progress in getting the evidence we need."

"It's okay," I hear myself say. "I understand why this can't happen now, but I don't want you to make it happen for me. I don't want special favors. If Mike, or anyone else, still wants me on their team, and has an opening in a couple of months, then I'm sure they will request my transfer again then. I don't want or need you to get involved."

He looks at me closely for a few moments. "Okay," he agrees, "and I'm truly sorry you can't take advantage of this opportunity yet."

I lift my head to look him in the eye, pushing back my disappointment. I have a job to do. So, the next move in my career is going to have to wait, but I can live with that knowing I'm working to stop James and Victoria and, now, their boss Caius. "Don't worry; I'll make it happen when the time is right. Besides, who else is going to bring down the ginger bitch and her slimy sidekick?"

~TMITE~

Instead of going straight home when I leave Mr. Cullen's office that evening, I go back to my desk. If my career progression is dependent on nailing these three, I'd better get the job done as quickly as I can, and I've just thought of a couple new ways to catch them out. I do the work then send off my plan to Edward. With this new plan, we should be able to force them, especially Caius, to show their hand. I smile at a job well done and head off home.

As I get into the elevator, humming to myself, in a much better mood now than when I left Edward's office earlier, I'm pulled from my musings by a rough, bordering on aggressive, voice.

"Miss Swan? You're working late? I hope there is nothing wrong? Victoria tells me your work is improving. I hope I don't have to report that you are having problems."

Shit, quick think up an excuse for still being here at this time. He can't know I've been working late. "Oh, no, Mr. Volturi, no problem. I was just down the road having a drink with a friend, when I realized I'd forgot my coat. It's a long journey home, so I came back to get it before catching the bus."

That sounds plausible, right?

"Your coat?" he queries.

"That's right," I say, trying to sound confident. He looks at me, and I hold his gaze.

"Very well, Miss Swan," he says, continuing to watch me closely. "Are you traveling home alone? It's quite late, perhaps a cab would be safer? Where is it you live? Maybe I could drop you on my way? My car is in the basement."

No way is that happening. I don't want to spend any more time with this creep than necessary. Besides, I get the feeling letting him know where I live may be a mistake.

"That's okay, Mr. Volturi. I'll get Embry to order me a cab when I get down to reception. I'll be fine, but thanks for the offer."

"Any time, Miss Swan," he says with a creepy smile as the elevator doors open at reception. "Take care now; I'd hate for any harm to come to you."

I nod and make my way across to the front desk, and the relative safety of Embry, without looking back. As I hear the familiar sound of the elevator doors closing, I let out a huge breath I've been holding.

"Are you okay, Miss Swan?" asks Embry. "You look a little flustered."

"I'm fine, Embry." I smile at him. Then a thought occurs to me. "Embry, I know this is probably a lot to ask, but if Mr. Volturi asks if I've been working late, could you please lie and say you've not seen me? I know it's lying to one of the VPs, but, please believe me, it's important."

He chuckles. "It's not Mr. Volturi who pays my wages, it's Mr. Cullen, and for some reason, he has already made it clear to me that if anyone asks, I've never seen you in the building after hours. I'm not going to ask what you two are up to. These things are certainly none of my business. But I like you, Miss Swan, so I will say be careful and watch that one." He nods toward the elevator. "I don't trust him. He walks around like he owns the place, and he just has this way about him that makes me suspicious. Call it a security guard's sixth sense."

I smile at Embry. He and I have gotten to know each other a little over the last month or so that I've been working late, chatting and passing the time as I wait for my taxi to turn up. He's a good guy with a young son and a heavily pregnant wife at home.

"Well, with you and Mr. Cullen watching my back, I'm sure I'll be okay," I say, but I'm not sure if it's him I'm trying to reassure or me.

* * *

A/N As always, thanks go to Robfansteinpire and Alice's White Rabbit who helped me get this story in a readable state.


	8. Chapter 8

TMitE Chapter 8

As I sit enjoying a coffee with Esme on Thursday, I think back over my session with Ms. Palmer. Her book has been getting a little steamy, and we'd both been giggling over the thrusting hips, heaving bosoms, and pulsating manhoods. She had joked that she has to read these books. Apparently, it's been far too long since men have wanted to—and she quoted the book—"bury their impressive swords in her flower garden." I laughed at the ridiculous euphemism, and she told me to make the most of being young and to get all the sex I can but not to settle for second best. I feigned shock and told her I was a good girl.

"Oh, they're the worst," she'd laughed. "All butter wouldn't melt, then they get between the sheets and something happens. Did I ever tell you about my friend Debra? She was a good girl. Her parents kept her on a tight leash. Afraid someone would take advantage of their baby girl. Then she got to college, and before you could blink, she'd joined a sorority and had slept with most of the football team. Taught me everything I know, did Debra."

I smile across at Esme as she asks how it went with Ms. Palmer.

"Eye opening," I confess.

"I'm sure there's a story there, but it will have to wait. We have more important things to plan."

"Oh?" I query, not sure what she's referring to.

"The gala is fast approaching, and as well as needing to start working on your speech, we need to be looking at gowns."

"Don't remind me," I moan. I've never been a fan of shopping.

"Well, have you given any thought to what you're going to wear?"

"Is it important?"

"Bella, it's of vital importance. What you wear reflects how you feel. If you know you look fantastic, then that will make you feel confident, which will help you knock them out of their socks. When you're selling anything, the first thing you need to learn is appearance does matter. You need to make that knockout first impression. The one that will have them sitting up and taking notice, then the words you say will be easy."

I think about what she says. "Your right, Esme. No matter how much I think the content of the speech is the most important thing, it's the whole package I need to sell."

"Don't get me wrong, the words are important. But not the only important thing. How you look will give you confidence and allow you to grab their attention. However, the thing that's really going to win them over is your passion. You are such a strong advocate of this program, it comes across every time you talk about it. Your look will hook them in, but it's your passion that will keep them hanging on every word you say. It's that which will make them open their hearts, and their wallets. You'll have volunteers lining up around the block after this gala, just you wait."

She's interrupted by a text alert on her mobile phone. "Excuse me, Bella, I just need to check this." I wave off her apology. "Damn," she exclaims in a manner so unlike the regal Esme I'm used to.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"It's my son," she clarifies, "he's supposed to be coming out tonight for a meal with me and my husband, Carlisle. It's been in his diary for weeks. It's Carlisle's birthday, you see. But now he says he has to cancel, something about a business meeting he can't get out of."

"I'm sorry." She is obviously disappointed, and I feel for her.

She types back a response to her errant son then looks back up at me. As she does, her eyes light up.

"You know what, you should come instead."

"Me!" I squeak. "But I don't even know your husband."

"That's not a problem. I've told him all about you, and he's dying to meet you. The table is already booked for three people; it would be fun to have you there. Besides, it's at the Ivory. Do you know how long it takes to get a table there? Have you ever been?"

The Ivory is one of the top restaurants in the city, and I've heard a lot about it. I've been looking for a special occasion that would justify me going. Could I really gatecrash Esme's husband's birthday celebration?

"I've wanted to go since I moved here," I confess. "Are you sure your husband won't mind?" I'm supposed to be working late tonight, as I do most Thursdays, but if I let Mr. Cullen know I have another appointment later, I'm sure I'll be able to get out in time to get to the restaurant.

She's typing away on her phone. "I'll ask him; he'll soon put your mind at rest."

Her phone chimes, and she looks at the screen.

"There you go," she says, showing me the message from her husband.

 **I'm disappointed in our workaholic son, but I would be delighted by the late substitution of the much spoken about Bella. I look forward to meeting her.**

I'm about to accept when a hideous thought occurs to me, and I narrow my eyes at Esme.

"This isn't just a ploy to hook me up with you son? I'm not going to turn up tonight and find he could get out of work after all and now is sitting next to me making polite conversation about how manipulative his mother is?"

She laughs. "No, he really does have to work, and if he changes his mind, I will let you know, not that he ever does when it comes to work." She rolls her eyes. "Besides, you made your current objection to dating perfectly clear after I suggested that nice doctor had his eye on you."

"Don't remind me. He still keeps making excuses to hang around when I'm talking to Mrs. Cope." I groan as I roll my eyes.

"You never did tell me what happened to make a young, beautiful girl so cynical about men. A bad breakup?"

I nod. "That and wanting to spend some time concentrating on me and my career. I need to put myself first for once."

"Do you want to share? I may be able to put a more experienced perspective on it?"

I find talking to Esme easy, and I imagine the conversations we have are like the ones I may have shared with my own mother, if she'd still been around. I find I can open up to her, and she is fast becoming a valued source of advice. I'm not quite at the point of telling her about Mr. Cullen, I'm not sure how she would feel about that relationship, and I'm not ready for her to judge me unfavorably.

"His name was Alex. We were high school sweethearts, and I thought we'd be together forever. I even gave up my chance to go to an Ivy League school so I could go to the same college as him. He put a lot of pressure on me, saying he couldn't bear for us to be apart."

"It sounds like you gave up a lot for him. You must have cared for him deeply."

"I loved him, Esme, and I thought he loved me too, but then, in our senior year of college, I'm ashamed to say, I ended up with a painful STI. The only person I'd been with, ever, was him, so there was only one place it could have come from. When I asked him about it, he denied he'd done anything wrong, but I insisted he get checked out also, and surprise, surprise, he was a carrier. After a long, heated argument, he confessed he'd had a one night stand with someone from one of his classes. He insisted it was a one off, it only happened because he was drunk, and he'd never do anything like that again."

"Did you believe him?"

I nod. "At first. I'd been with him for five years. What was one small indiscretion in that time? I thought we could put it behind us and move on. I even kidded myself we'd be stronger for having worked through this difficult time." I laugh as I remember how naïve I'd been. "But then I came home one day to find a girl banging on our door, yelling for him to come out, accusing him of giving her the same STI. Well, I reacted badly, to say the least, thinking she must be the girl who'd given it to him. You see, the way he'd painted it, she'd taken advantage of him when he was drunk."

"I take it things weren't quite as he'd portrayed them?"

"No. After I yelled at her, and she'd yelled back, I calmed down, and she explained how she'd been seeing him for the last six months."

"Six months!" exclaims Esme. "The rat."

"I know, right? After that, I spoke to some of his friends and the truth came out. Not only had he been seeing this other girl, but he'd been going out while I was studying and hooking up with anyone he could get his hands on. He was well-known in a couple of the sorority houses."

"Oh, Bella, I'm so sorry. But you do know not all men are like that?"

"I know, Esme, but it's going to take a while to trust again. Besides, I'm enjoying putting me first. I got a good result in my degree, I'm doing well at work, the volunteer program is taking up a lot of my time, and I'm building up a good group of friends whom I can rely on and trust explicitly."

"You're a very strong and capable woman, Bella. I'm sure you will go a long way, and if and when the right man turns up, I'm sure you'll recognize him, and he'll worship you the way you deserve."

~TMitE~

Later on that day, I'm pondering Esme's words as I wrap up my day job, ready to start work on Mr. Cullen's and my special project. Should I be getting over Alex and moving on? How do you learn to trust again after being hurt? I know I've always wanted what my mom and dad had, what Esme seems to have with her husband, Carlisle. Lately, that's seemed like a far-off fantasy. But is it really? Am I sabotaging my own future by having a relationship with a man who won't or can't commit? Would I want him to commit if I was ready to move on? I have no answers, just questions that buzz round and round in my head like flies around a drop of honey. As soon as I think I've batted one away, another pops up to bother me.

I push my errant thoughts to one side. I have no answers, and I have work to do. I'm eager to see how the modifications I made to the files on Monday are playing out. I'm hoping there will be a lot of data to look through. Data that will help to shed more light on the situation. I've noticed Victoria hanging about and working a little later the last couple nights, only leaving after I have, so I'm watching her door, hoping she won't be staying late tonight.

It's gotten to five-fifteen. She's usually out that door at five on the dot. The office is starting to empty, and I wonder how long I can hold on until it starts to look suspicious. I'm just thinking I'm going to have to leave when Mr. Volturi steps out of the elevator and makes his way across the floor toward her office. He looks around as he makes his way through the cubicles, and I see the moment he spots me. Instantly, he starts to make a detour in my direction. I rapidly start to shut down my computer and gather my stuff together, making it look like I'm getting ready to leave.

"Miss Swan. Still here, I see. Victoria's not working you too hard, I hope."

"Certainly not, Mr. Volturi. I was just leaving," I lie.

"Good, good," he says. "Don't let me keep you. I know how you young people like to meet up with friends and the like in the evenings. Enjoy being young while you can."

I grab my bag and coat, as he watches, before hurrying off to the elevators. It looks like I won't be working late, or seeing Mr. Cullen, tonight after all. As I get into the elevator, going down, I contemplate getting straight back into one going up to the top floor but decide the risk is too great with so many people, including Mr. Cullen's PA, still being at work. There is nothing for it. I send off a text to Mr. Cullen explaining what happened, and he sends one back telling me to go home and not to do anything to make them suspicious. I've already told him about my encounter with Caius on Monday, and I'm convinced my presence here working late has made them suspicious. It looks like we are going to have to be more careful going forward.

~TMitE~

On the bus on the way home, I'm contemplating how I now have extra time to get ready for my night out with Esme and her husband when I get a call from her.

"Bella, I know this sounds really suspicious in light of what we spoke about today, but my son just texted me to let me know he can make it tonight after all. I'm so sorry. He only ever cancels on us, not the other way around. I promise I didn't plan this."

I laugh at Esme's obvious distress. "It's okay, Esme, I trust you."

"Now, we have two options, as I see them. I can tell him his place is already taken and we can go without him, then Carlisle and I can meet up with him another time. Or I can telephone the restaurant to change the booking. I'm sure they won't mind increasing the reservation to four. But I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable."

"No, Esme, don't be silly. You should go back to your original plan and have a lovely family meal. From what you say, it's hard to get your son away from his work. You need to make the most of this opportunity."

"You're right, it is hard to work around his schedule, but I invited you, and I won't be rude and let you down."

"Esme, it's fine, I promise. You can take me out to meet Carlisle another time, but if your son has time to see his dad on his birthday, that's more important. Besides, I've had a long day. I'm tired, and all I really want to do is have a soak in a hot bath and curl up with a good book."

"Are you sure?" she asks. "I feel so rude. That boy! Why can't he just stick to a commitment instead of changing his mind on a whim?"

I laugh, imagining the telling-off her son is going to get later. Esme is all kindness, but I see the mother in her. The one who's not afraid to reprimand a wayward son when needed, even when he's a fully grown businessman.

"I'll see you next week, Esme," I say, ending the call and returning to my worrying about Caius, Victoria, and James and whether they are on to me.

~TMitE~

The next week is slow going. Victoria keeps close tabs on me, hanging about after work so I can't stay late. I know the changes I made to the files will be gathering data, but I have no chance to look at them or pull the results together, let alone apply the changes to any other projects. I also don't get to see Edward, which is particularly hard as he is going away on a business trip this Friday, which will keep him out the office for the whole following week.

Esme is very apologetic when I see her on Tuesday, but she looks so happy to have spent time with her son that there is no way I could hold it against her. Instead, we fix up for me to go over to her house in a couple of weeks. I'm going to be taking her through the first draft of my speech for the gala, and she is going to fix me a home-cooked meal and introduce me to her surgeon husband at last.

The following Monday swings round, and it's now two weeks since I last saw Mr. Cullen, or worked on the project, and I know something is going to have to change or our work is going to grind to a halt. My lack of progress not only means a delay in Victoria, James, and Caius getting what is coming to them, but also a delay in me getting out of this data crunching role and onto something more exciting, more substantial. Something with Mike's team, I hope. Something that will stretch me and show my talents. Something that will open doors and allow me to show my full potential.

I'd also love to be able to report some good news to Edward when he gets back from his business trip the next week.

So at five on the dot, I message Angela that I'm leaving and ask her to walk out with me. She's ready to leave, and as she collects me from my cubicle, we make sure to say goodbye to Victoria on our way past her office. I then drag Angela off to The Tavern, having spoken to Embry on our way through reception.

I'm jumpy as Ben lines up our drinks, and he gives Angela a questioning look to which she just shrugs.

"I get off early tonight," he says as he cleans down the bar near us. It's Monday night and The Tavern is quiet, allowing him time to stand and talk, but I've left him to Angela as I keep looking at my phone, willing it to ring.

"When?" I ask, his obvious attempt to get some time with Angela not lost on me despite my distraction.

"In about half an hour."

"Perfect," I say. "I'm going to have to go soon, and Angela will need someone to keep her company, and you are the perfect man for the job."

Angela throws me a dirty look, but I plow on.

"Weren't you just saying the other day that it's a shame Ben is always working when we're here, and how it would be nice to be able to sit and have a drink with him and get to know him more? Now you both get a chance to bond without me playing third wheel."

I grin at her. She'll thank me later. I'm sure. Well, I hope. Either that or kill me. I hope he's good in bed.

Just as she's about to protest, my phone rings. "Hold that thought," I say as I answer.

"Little B, the coast is clear; all foxes have left the coup."

"Embry, we're not spies. You know that, right? I don't think we need code names."

"Don't spoil my fun, B. And you should refer to me as Big E. You never know who may be listening. Now, if you want, I can sneak you in the back way, and you can ride in the service elevator to avoid detection."

I giggle. "Is that really necessary if all the foxes are gone?"

"You can't be too careful," he says in a conspiratorial whisper. "The walls have ears, and the elevators have eyes."

"Okay, okay. I'll meet you round the back. Just don't go expecting me to wear a disguise."

I hang up and see two curious sets of eyes watching me.

"What?" I say innocently.

"Disguises? Sneaking round the back? What are you up to, Bella?" asks Ben.

"It's best you know as little as possible," I say with a wink, tapping the side of my nose, "then you can deny all knowledge when questioned."

"I really don't know anything, so I can easily deny all knowledge," he points out.

"That's good; stick with that line and they'll never break you. Now, I'm off. See you tomorrow, Ang. Don't do anything I wouldn't."

"You forget I do know what you're up to, so that leaves me pretty open, I would think," she retorts, raising an eyebrow. I just waggle mine at her in reply and wave as I exit the building.

Five minutes later, I'm meeting Embry at the back entrance to the CMH building.

"They've really all left?" I clarify.

"Yep, Victoria and James left together about ten minutes after you, then about thirty minutes later, Mr. Volturi left also. The coast is clear."

"Thanks for this, Embry. I'll make sure someone bakes you some cookies or buys you a spy kit for Christmas."

He laughs. "Cookies always go down well on the night shift, but you're not offering to bake them yourself?"

"You wouldn't even suggest it if you'd ever tasted my cookies," I joke as he types in the code for the service elevator and lets me in.

I thank him once again before I ride up to my floor and take my seat in my cubicle. I'm grateful for the fact Embry has my back and is poised to call me if anyone comes into the building. I know there may be others also working late tonight, but there is no one on my floor, and I'm grateful for the high walls of my cubicle that shield me from view of the casual observer.

I end up having a very productive evening, and I send off a few files to Mr. Cullen and let him know we are back on track. On the way out, I make plans with Embry to do the same again on Thursday night before I send a text off to Angela to enquire how her evening with Ben has gone. I'm halfway home on the bus when I get a reply, and judging by the number of typos, she's definitely been drinking. It's short and to the point.

 **Tank Bels. You right. Ben g8.**

I smile but hope she takes her own advice and is careful.

~TMitE~

On Tuesday, at five on the dot, Angela drags me out of the office and down to The Tavern again to fill me in on the night before. As we enter, Ben's face lights up. Things obviously went well. He hands over our drinks, and they exchange furtive looks, both wearing matching grins, and I drag Angela back to our table to dish the details.

"Spill," I say as soon as we're sitting down.

She gives out a lovesick sigh, and I feel like throwing up. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for her; this is what I wanted, but does she have to look quite so blissed out about it?

"He's wonderful, Bells. Thanks so much for the push."

"I need details," I say. "Don't hold out on me, Webber. Is he hung like a horse? Does he have mad wicked skills between the sheets?"

"I don't know," she says. "We only talked. Oh and made out. We made out a lot."

"Wow, Webber, I'm impressed. You showed some restraint."

"Yep, I think we should take it slow. I think he could be the one, Bella. I can feel myself falling for him."

This is not like Angela. In the time I've known her, she's been a love 'em and leave 'em kind of girl. This must be serious.

"Okay, so when are you seeing him again?"

"He has this Sunday off. We're going to go on a proper date. He's picking me up, and I'm getting dressed up. We're going to have a meal and see a movie. You know, proper date stuff."

"I'm really happy for you, Ang," I say, squeezing her hand. "I just need to go and give him the best friend talk in a moment. You know the one about him not hurting you if he wants to keep his balls intact, then we're good to go."

"Don't scare him off," she warns.

"Moi? After I pushed you together? Never."

"Well, before you do, you need to let me in on what you were up to yesterday, Swan. What's with all this cloak and dagger stuff?"

"Oh that. Embry was just letting me know when the Embezzling Three had left the building so I could go back and get on with my work for Mr. Cullen."

"And no doubt sneak up and have your wicked way with him." She gives me a corny wink.

"No," I protest with a roll of my eyes, "he's out of the office this week on business."

"And you were dry all last week too? Are you missing him?" She looks at me as if looking for signs I'm as lovesick as she is. I think about it for a moment. I'm certainly missing the sex. But him? That's a difficult one.

I think about the way his green eyes dance as he discusses aspects of his business with me, telling me a little about how the projects we are looking at data on fit into the big picture that is Cullen Masen Holdings. I've enjoyed finding out more about the company, about how he started it up with a business loan from his godfather, Mr. Masen, hence his name being included in the company name. But, even with all our meetings, I still know so little about the man himself. Why does he find it so hard to open up and let people in? Why is he so married to the company? Why does he not want a girlfriend? It's all still a mystery.

I go for the easy answer. "Only the sex," I say with a smirk and a returned wink. It seems to satisfy her.

~TMitE~

On Thursday, I once again leave Angela making eyes at Ben over the bar as Embry sneaks me back into the CMH building, and I get back down to work. I'm restless tonight. I keep looking at the clock. As it goes past the time when I would have gone up to the 27th floor, I snap.

Here I am working late, and he's probably holed up in a generic hotel room, working too. I think we both need a distraction. Before I can back out, I send him off a quick, suggestive email and sit back to see the result.

 _Mr. Cullen,_

 _I have good news and bad news. I have been able to restart my work on our special project, however, I have encountered another problem. Similar to the one I had near the start. The sort of problem only you can solve with your long, talented fingers._

 _Regards,_

 _Miss Swan_

But it's not an email response I receive. Almost instantly, my office phone rings, making me jump.

I answer quickly. It's him.

"Another problem, Miss Swan? One only I can solve? Well, why don't I get to work solving that problem straight away. I'm assuming this problem involves a throbbing between your legs? A throbbing that can only be solved by my fingers?"

Shit. I expected some flirty texts. Is he really going to do this? Does he know where I am?

"I'm at work, at my desk," I inform him nervously.

"I was assuming that, sugar. I was also assuming you were alone and in need. I can help you with that need. But first, tell me you're safe. That however you've pulled off getting back into the office, you won't be discovered, then I can relax and help you to relax also."

"I'm safe," I say. "Embry is helping me."

"He's a good man," confirms Edward. "So let's get back to this problem. I've missed solving your problems, Miss Swan."

"Okay," I say, trying not to show my nervousness and hesitation. I've never done anything like this before, especially not in a public place. Even if it is an empty public place.

"You said in your text that my fingers would be the best means to solve this problem. Well, I'm afraid my digits can't be there at present, so you're going to have to let yours do the work for me. Do you think you can do that? Do you think you can follow my instructions to the letter? No deviation? Because if you do, I promise you that problem will be solved in minutes."

Fuck, we're really doing this. I look around, double-checking there is no one anywhere on the floor, even though I know the answer.

"Do you promise to follow all my instructions, Bella? Answer me." Mr. Cullen is getting impatient.

"I promise, Mr. Cullen," I whisper out.

"Good girl. Now get those panties off. We can't have anything getting in the way of my fingers, now can we?" As he talks, I pull them down and shove them into my drawer, noticing they are already wet.

"Are they off, Bella? Do I have unrestricted access?"

"They're off," I clarify breathlessly.

"Good girl. Now open your legs. Wide. What are you wearing?"

"I've got on that blue blouse you like and the short black skirt."

"The one you wore that day in the elevator?" he asks. "The one that drove me so wild with desire I broke all the rules and made you mine for the first time?"

"Yes," I confirm, hardly able to say more.

"Fuck, sugar. Do you know how hard I am for you now? How that image of you sitting there in your cubicle, in that sexy-ass skirt, with no panties on, your legs spread wide, just waiting for me to touch you, is driving me crazy with desire. Are you wet? Are you as turned on as I am, thinking about me lying here on my hotel bed, my cock straining to get out of my pants, just thinking about you?"

"Ummh." It's about all I can manage at the moment, and I'm rewarded for my effort by a short chuckle before he continues.

"Touch your breasts, tell me if your nipples are hard for me."

I find my voice. It sounds like he wants two-way communication. "They're hard, like rocks."

"I hope you're touching them under your bra. Or perhaps you're not wearing a bra, my dirty girl. You like to tease me by coming to see me without a bra on don't you, sugar?"

"Yes, Mr. Cullen," I say as I undo the top couple buttons on my blouse and push my hand into the cup of my bra, giving my breast a well-needed squeeze before pulling on the nipple just the way Mr. Cullen does.

"Are you playing with you nipples? Are you teasing them just the way I would?"

How does he know? "Yes," I pant at him.

"That's good. Do you know my balls are aching for you? Do you think I should touch myself too? Tell me how you'd touch my hard cock if I was there."

Fuck, he wants me to talk. I've never done this before. What do I say?

"Tell me, sugar, or my hands are going to leave you, and you'll have to wait until I get back to get your relief."

His words make me focus. What would I do? I close my eyes and imagine he's lying in front of me, his pants off and his shirt undone. It's an inspiring sight. I take a deep breath and dive straight in.

"I'd start by taking that small dribble of pre-cum that is glistening on the end, and I'd spread it slowly down your length using a feather-soft touch. Then I'd wrap my hand right around you, gently at first, getting a feel for you. I'd start to slide my hand up and down your shaft, and on each stroke, I'd run my thumb across the top, ensuring I paid attention to that sensitive area I know gets you excited. As I feel you getting more aroused, I'd increase the pressure and allow my other hand to play with your balls."

For an amateur, I think I'm doing all right, especially if his labored breathing is anything to go by.

"Oh, that feels so good, but I don't want to come in your hand. Not yet anyway." His voice is husky as he once again takes over the narrative. "So what I need you to do is run one of your hands up your inner thigh just like I would. Do you think you can do that for me? Move it slowly up your thigh until you reach the area that's crying out for me? Describe what it's like, Bella; what do I feel when I get there?"

"I'm wet, Edward, so wet. For you."

"Imagine those are my fingers there touching you. Feel them move up to your clit; will I find it swollen and ready, Bella? Is it crying out for my touch?"

"It's so swollen. It needs you to touch it."

"So go ahead. Touch it for me. Start by rubbing it slowly and gently. Let me tease you. That's it. Now spread your juices around and let one finger enter you, but just the tip now. I need to get you worked up a little more first.

"Do you know what my other hand would be doing, Bella? While one explored under your skirt, the other would be fondling your breast. Is there any way you can go hands-free and let my other hand touch your breast?"

My office phone is quite large, and I do what I've done countless times before. I lean my head toward my shoulder, trapping the phone and releasing my hand. I'm not sure how long I'm going to be able to hold it this way, especially once I start getting excited, but I'm willing to give it a go.

"My hand's free, Edward. What do you want me to do?" My voice comes out husky and breathless.

"I want you to do exactly what I'd do if I was there. First, run it over your breast, against your flesh. Make sure your finger pass over your nipple. Describe how your nipple feels to me."

"It's so hard. It aches for you."

"Well don't deny it what it needs. You know the way I love to feel you breasts. To suck on those nipples, to bite down and tease them. Use your hand, sugar, and imagine it's my mouth sucking and pulling on those delectable peaks."

I let out a groan as my imagination takes over. It's as if I can really feel him touching me.

"Now, back to your other hand. Is it still teasing you? Are you starting to feel the build-up? Do you want me to give you more?"

"More, yes, please," I breathe out as my hips rock forward, desperate for added friction.

"Then more you shall have. I want you to slide a finger up inside you. As deep as it will go. Is it deep, Bella?"

"So deep," I mutter.

"Does it feel good? Is it as good as when I thrust my fingers into you?"

"Nearly," I confess. No matter how turned-on I currently am, or how erotic I find doing this in my cubicle with him directing me, I would still rather he was here in person doing this to me himself.

He chuckles. "Not long until I'm back, and then I will make you come so hard they will hear you on the ground floor. But for now, I want you to add another finger and move those fingers in and out. That's it, get a good rhythm going. Make sure your thumb is able to hit your clit as you push those digits deep inside yourself."

"God, Edward, that feels so good. I wish I could touch you. I wish you were here."

"It's good for me too, sugar. Those little sounds you're making, the ones you make when I have you up in my office? You would not believe what they are doing to me. Do you know I'm stroking myself here too? You have me so hard, so ready, I don't think I'm going to be able to hold off much longer. Do you think you can come for me soon? I want to hear you come."

"Oh, God, Edward, I'm so close; so close."

"When I get back, there will be no stopping me. I'm going to have you every way you could possibly imagine. I'm going to remind you who you belong to. I'll fuck you so hard you'll be feeling me for a week. I can't wait to feel you pulsating around my cock as you come again and again, screaming out my name each time."

His words build me up to the peak of my wave, and I do shout out his name as I come crashing down, the swell flowing through my body from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. I feel my body squeezing my fingers, and it feels so good.

As I come, I can just make out him still talking in to me, telling me how he loves to hear me come and how he wishes he could see my face in that moment. His final words being a few mumbled repeats of my name before he lets out a low groan as he too reaches his climax.

I sit there panting and quickly rearrange my skirt, suddenly aware of my exposure in a public place. A currently empty place, but one that will be filled with my work colleagues in the morning.

"Fuck, that was hot," I exclaim. "I've never done anything like that before."

"There's a first time for everything, sugar lips," he replies. "Just think, tomorrow you have to sit in that chair and talk work with Victoria, knowing what we've just done. One night, I'm going to have to throw caution to the wind and come down and screw you against your desk. Give you some hot memories to distract you while you're playing with your numbers."

"You distract me enough as it is," I confess in a pouty voice, making him laugh.

"Well, I've had no complaints about a drop-off in productivity, so I'm obviously not working hard enough at distracting you. But now you're able to stay late again, I'll have to work on that. Tell me, Bella, how did you get the Thieving Three off your back?"

I go on to describe to Edward how Embry is helping me to sneak back into the building, and he says he's going to have to arrange for the security guard to get a bit extra in his Christmas bonus check. We talk a little longer, him filling me in on how his trip's going, me telling him a little about Ben and Angela, which makes him chuckle.

As I hang up, I have a huge smile on my face. It's been a long two weeks since I last saw Edward, and I can't wait until next Monday.

~TMITE~

"If it's that bad, you should get out," says Alice.

It's Friday night and Angela and I are once again at The Tavern. It's the fourth time this week, and I'm sure Ben isn't objecting to the extra visits. I'm certainly glad for his presence. Angela had started to dig into my current feelings about Edward after I'd apparently "looked funny" when telling her about him getting back from his business trip this coming Monday. I'm just looking forward to filling him in on the latest results and showing him how much progress I've made. I can't wait to see his face when he realizes how close we are getting to putting together all the evidence we need. Of course, getting some real sex after a three-week abstinence is an added bonus.

It was a relief when Alice joined us and took the pressure off further. She has been filling us in on her job with McCarty Construction. It's a smaller outfit than CMH, but still well regarded, and she is enjoying finding her feet. Angela and I have been bitching about Victoria and James.

I smile in what I hope is a placating manner. I've no plans to move on at present. I need to complete the work I'm doing for Edward, then I can start progressing up the company, and it looks like I may have a bright future with CMH, if Mike is to be believed.

"There are too many perks at CMH for Bella to move on," says Angela, smirking at me. I shoot her a look and kick her under the table.

"Oh?" enquires Alice. "I detect a story there."

"It's nothing, just our Bella is being primed for promotion. Do you remember Mike from her birthday gathering? Well, he's keen for Bella to work closely with him, if you get my meaning."

Alice raises her eyebrow at me. "So, you're looking at a little personal office fun, Bella."

"With Mike? Please, no," I exclaim. "Mike is so not my type. Besides, I'd like to move into his team someday soon. I'm not usually one to mix business with pleasure." It's the truth, Mr. Cullen being one big exception to the rule, one I still battle with. I know what we're doing is wrong, but there is something about him I can't keep away from.

"Well, if you ever change your mind about moving on, I know Rosalie is looking for a couple new members for her team, and I'm sure if I put in a word for you, you'd be straight in for an interview. Just let me know if Mike's advances, and Victoria and James' shit, gets too much."

I thank Alice, but I'm happy at present, even knowing my special project with Edward is stopping me from moving on in my career as fast as I could. I'm sure it'll all work out in the long run. Besides, there are other perks to staying at CMH. I smile once again as I think about Edward's return and those long, sexy fingers.

* * *

A/N: Sorry this is so late in the day. Today I travelled to England to spend the next 6 weeks visiting friends and family for the summer. I have internet access here at my parents, where I am at present, but I won't have it everywhere I go. I'm also not sure how much time I will actually get to write while I'm here, so updates over this period may be sporadic at best. I now need to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

TMitE – Chapter 9

I can't help the smile that spreads across my face as the doors open and there he is. It's been over a week since I've seen him and three since I've felt his hands on me. But that is all going to change today. His eyes momentarily flick up from his phone screen, and I see the corner of his mouth also lift up in a half-smirk. God, I love that look. I'm so glad he's back in the office. Last Thursday was fun, but it was no substitute for actually being with him.

I step into the elevator and instantly start to second guess what I'm about to do. I've no idea if this is a good idea. I strongly suspect it's not. I have thought through my contingency plans, so we should be safe, but I know I'm still taking a risk. As we ride up, I can't help looking at him out of the corner of my eye. I've taken up residence on the opposite side of the elevator from him, but it's close enough to see he's not shaved this morning, the shadow of hairs darkening his jawline and making it look even more angular than usual. As I watch, his eyes flick to mine without him moving his head, and he catches me looking at him. My smile matches his. God, I've missed this man.

As we approach my floor, I watch him, trying to gauge his reaction as the elevator fails to stop. I see his eyebrows draw together in what looks like confusion. He glances briefly around the elevator. There are only two other people left in the carriage, in addition to me and Edward. The other two work in marketing on the floor below Mike's.

The first, an older gentleman with a slight pot belly and receding hairline, is Bob Banner. I've done some work for him in the past, but we don't know each other that well. The other, Tyler Crowley, is a fellow intern. He started with CMH a year before me and Angela. I've heard he has taken one of the available positions on Mike's team that could have been mine. He turns in my direction as I fail to get off the elevator at my floor.

"You wouldn't happen to be going to floor 24?" Tyler asks.

"Yep," I answer, giving my prepared lie. "I have to drop off some files for Mike." I tap the folder I've strategically tucked under my arm. "Victoria said he needed them urgently today. I'd been working on them late on Friday but thought I'd better drop them off in person this morning rather than relying on the internal mail service."

The elevator opens at their floor as I yell at myself to shut up. I have a tendency to overelaborate when I'm lying. Luckily, Tyler doesn't seem to notice.

"I don't suppose you could give him this?" Tyler starts to rummage in his bag as the doors of the elevator are held open by his colleague, who keeps glancing at his watch.

He eventually pulls out a maroon-colored file and hands it to me. "I'll make sure he gets it," I say, smiling. Shit, what am I supposed to do with this now? I tuck it under my arm with my own folder. I'll deal with it later.

Tyler exits the elevator with a quick wave in my direction and a nervous look at Mr. Cullen, finally leaving the two of us alone.

Mike has his office on the next floor, floor 24, with the other marketing managers. But I have no plans to get off there either. As the elevator doors close, I see Edward slip his phone into his jacket pocket and turn in my direction, his head cocked to one side.

I keep facing forward. Playing it cool. Or at least, I hope that's the impression I'm giving. In reality, my heart is beating faster than a speeding rocket, and my palms are sweating like it's 110 degrees. There is still a risk the elevator will stop at one of the floors that houses the other executives; executives that include Caius Volturi. But if that happens, I have my next lie prepared and ready. One of the files I have under my arm really is a valuable report I conveniently forgot to put in the internal mail on Friday. Unlike the fake one I told Tyler about, this one Victoria really did insist Caius needed first thing this morning. Obviously, personal delivery is now the only option open to me.

But the elevator continues to rise. Past Mike's floor, past the executive floors, and up to Edward's personal floor. Now I only need an excuse to get past Tanya. But she's his PA, so if I'm with him, she shouldn't question my presence. I plan to just march into his office alongside him. I don't need to answer to her.

We still haven't spoken, but as we rise, I notice the smirk on his face grow. He knows I'm breaking the rules and taking a huge risk by coming to see him during work hours, yet he seems to be enjoying the idea.

The doors open, and I see him gesture for me to exit in front of him. Still not looking at him, afraid I'll lose my cool if I take him in fully, I stride out in front of him. I'm in luck; Tanya's not at her desk, so I walk straight past her desk and into his office.

I stride confidently forward, stopping in the middle, and I hear the door click shut behind me. Then I feel him brush past me as he marches over to his desk, taking his seat on the other side.

Shit, what do I do now? This is as far as my plans got. I know I want to thank him for the amazing orgasm he gave me on Thursday, and I had thought a blow job would go down well, but I'd not planned past actually getting to his office. Now I need to see this through.

He stares at me as I stare at him, both taking each other in. He is looking particularly hot today. He's wearing his gray suit, which he's coupled with a black tie. It's a look I particularly like.

He's the first to break the standoff.

"So, you wanted to see me?"

I smile and start to walk forward around the desk. "I missed you," I confess, "and I wanted to thank you for Thursday."

"No thanks necessary; the pleasure was all mine." His confident smirk is killing me.

I reach him, and the desire to touch him, to kiss him, to hold him, is too much. I lean forward and our lips meet. The kiss starts off soft and gentle, like two old friends reacquainting themselves, but it soon grows passionate. His hands bury themselves in my hair, and he is pulling me down to straddle his lap. But that is not the way this is happening. I break the kiss and, smirking up at him, sink down onto my knees.

I reach forward to undo his belt and slacks and, being a fast learner, he knows exactly what's coming, so he helps me push his pants and boxers down just enough to reveal what I've been missing for the past three weeks. As he does, he gently strokes the hair at the back of my head, allowing my long strands to fall through his fingers. I take a moment to enjoy the view before I allow the tip of my tongue to snake out and gently lick him from base to tip. The feel of his soft skin over the hard interior is exquisite, and I'm desperate to take the whole thing into my mouth, to feel him twitch and pulsate and eventually come, but I want to tease him a little first.

But before I can even start, I'm interrupted by Edward nudging me backward.

"Shuffle back a bit, I need to reach my desk. As fantastically distracting as this is, I still have important work I need to be starting."

Is he serious? His voice is husky so I know what I'm doing is affecting him. Is he really going to work as I suck him off? I look up at him with a raised eyebrow. He just smirks back and gives me another slight nudge backward. I shake my head at him but comply, shuffling back under his desk. But I'm determined he won't be working. This blow job is going to be so good he'll not be able to think of anything else.

I make myself comfortable under his desk. I'm sandwiched between a set of drawers on my right and an empty waste paper basket on my left. Behind me is the backboard of the desk. It's a large desk so I have plenty of room, but I still feel enclosed, hidden. It all adds to the illicit nature of the act I'm about to perform. I hear him open the lid of his laptop and clear this throat. I take this as my cue to get to work to the sound of tapping computer keys.

I decide to build up the anticipation by teasing him at first with kisses, licks, and the occasional sucking of his balls into my mouth. I'm rewarded by hearing his breathing getting short and the occasional curse as well as a stuttering in the pattern of key tapping.

"Killing me here, Bella," he murmurs, and I figure he's had enough teasing. It's time to step things up. I slowly lower my mouth down over his already well-lubricated shaft. I apply a slight pressure with my tongue, tracing the raised veins, as I take him as deep as I can. I'm rewarded by the sound of his typing halting and one hand reaching under the desk to grasp the back of my neck. "Fuck!" he exclaims. "Just hold it there, Bella. I want to savor this moment. God, I've missed you."

The corners of my lips curl up slightly around the base of his cock, but the smile is quickly wiped off my face as I hear a knock on his large oak door. At the sound, I try to pull away and release him, but his hand on the back of my head holds me firmly in place.

"It's okay, Sugar Lips, it will just be Tanya with my morning coffee. You just keep doing what you're doing; don't you worry about her."

Then he does the last thing I'm expecting. "Enter," he calls and my eyes widen as the door starts to open.

To my ears, his voice sounds a little husky as he greets his PA, but I'm not sure anyone else would spot it. I go to pull off him again, but he has me held firm as I hear her stride across the floor. Then his hand starts to loosen, and I draw back, slowly allowing his considerable length to withdraw from my mouth. I can hear Tanya talking, but I'm not paying the slightest attention to what she's saying. I know I'm totally hidden from view down here, but my heart is still beating like it's the last drum on the planet. Even so, I can't resist allowing my tongue to tease the delicate area at the base of his tip when I reach it. I'm rewarded by hearing him stutter in his reply to Tanya.

I think this game is over, but then I feel his hand once again tighten on the back of my head, and he pushes my mouth back down over his length. So, he really wants to do this, does he? He wants me to keep sucking him off while she's standing there? Well, two can play that game. I suck him down a little harder, and his cock twitches in my mouth in response. I make a couple passes up and down his shaft as he guides me with his hand, but as I reach up with my hand to fondle his balls, he seems to trust that I will keep going and both hands disappear above the desk.

Now I have free rein to play with him as I see fit. And play I do. I take great pleasure in ramping up the intensity every time he's talking, listening for the effect in his voice. I rest one hand on his thigh, feeling the muscles tense as he fights the urge to come. While the other plays with his ball sack, occasionally reaching back to rub that area between his balls and crack that I know sends him over the edge. I'm determined to make him lose control before he can dismiss Tanya, and I redouble my efforts as I hear him giving her instructions to get some report from the sixth floor. As I work, I'm surprised, and if I'm honest, a little embarrassed to find that doing this, with her in the room, is turning me on. A lot. I rub my thighs together to get some friction. What does this mean? Am I a bit of an exhibitionist at heart? I don't linger on it for too long and just continue to enjoy what I'm doing.

"Don't come back until you have the full report," I hear him say in a tight voice, full of barely concealed tension. Then I make out Tanya's high-heeled footsteps moving toward the door, and I suck him down hard, taking him in as deep as I'm able. As soon as I hear the door shut behind her, he jerks once, utters an expletive, and shoots his load right down my throat with more muttered curses about me being the death of him.

Before I have time to process what we've just done, his chair is pushed out, and he's pulling me out from under his desk. He stands up, and his hand is on his impressive cock, stroking rapidly, and I can see it is already getting hard again.

"That was the hottest thing I have ever done," he says. "I am so fucking turned on right now; I just want to be buried deep inside you. Turn around," he orders, and I obey. The extreme arousal I was feeling under the desk, coupled with the look of desire and utter animalistic lust in his eyes, has me dripping with want. I turn and notice his laptop has already been pushed to the side as he guides me to lean forward over his deck. As I stretch my arms out to grip the opposite edge firmly, he rubs his hands up my thighs and over my bare ass, pushing my skirt up to my waist as he goes. I've taken the liberty of, once again, not wearing underwear to visit Mr. Cullen, and the fondling he gives my ass leads me to believe he appreciates the gesture.

He knocks the inside of my feet with his, indicating I should spread my legs farther, and I readily comply. "God, you look exquisite like that. Bent over and exposed for me. I can see your lips glistening from here. Did sucking me off with Tanya in the room excite you as much as it did me?" As much as his words are turning me on, I'm tired of talk. I want some action.

I wiggle my ass, a silent hint for him to get on with it. He chuckles. I hear his drawer open, followed by the familiar sound of a foil packet being opened. I then feel him place a large hand on each cheek, squeezing and rubbing. If he doesn't take me soon, I'm going to explode.

"You have a fabulous ass, Bella." He runs his thumbs down through my crack. As they pass over my butt hole, I give a little shudder at the thought of him playing there. He stops briefly and runs one thumb around my back entrance before continuing his downward travel.

"One day, I'm going to claim you here, Bella, but not today. Today, I need it hard and fast. Are you ready," he asks as his hands move round to grasp me tight by the hips.

I've never felt more ready, and I tighten my grip on the edge of his desk as I respond with a, "Fuck, yes."

I've hardly finished the words when he pulls back on my hips and thrusts hard into me, making me cry out in surprise and pleasure. I've waited three weeks for this, and the feelings of desire, lust, pleasure, and for some reason, belonging are overwhelming, but I don't have time to linger on them as he pulls out and thrusts back in with even greater force. I can feel my climax building already, but I don't want this to end yet, so I try my best to hold it off.

But the feelings are too intense after our long absence, and soon, I'm calling out his name as I shatter around him. He gives one more immense thrust, right at the peak of my orgasm, sending it to new heights, and then, as he too reaches his climax, he collapses against my back.

As we recover, he stands up then sinks back into his chair, taking me with him. I feel his arms wrap protectively around me, and our breath starts to return to a normal speed.

"I should get going," I say, making no actual effort to move.

"Just a little longer," he murmurs, kissing the top of my head and stroking his hand down my hair that flows across my back. "God, I missed this."

I'm not sure if he's referring to holding me, the sex we've just had, or perhaps the blow job.

"You're still coming to see me tonight, aren't you?" he asks. "Embry can still help you get back into the building?" He pulls back and looks me in the eye, cradling my face with his hand.

"Of course," I clarify. "I have lots of progress to report."

"Good," he says, and once again, I'm left wondering what he's referring to. Seeing me again or my progress.

We talk for a little longer. He laughs as I tell him about Embry's spy obsession, and he tells me a little about the new business he's acquired. He sounds like a little boy with a new toy as he explains all the things he wants to do with the new acquisition.

But it's not long before he's looking at his watch. "That errand I sent Tanya on will hold her up for a while but not forever. If you want to get out of here undetected, you should go now."

I reluctantly rise from his lap and start to sort myself out. He helps me to smooth down my hair, after sorting himself out, then leads me out to the lobby. We wait quietly for the elevator to arrive, and as it does, he motions for me to step to the side, nestling me between a couple large potted plants. "Just to be on the safe side," he says with a wink. When the elevator arrives, I hold my breath as the doors open, and he peers inside then beckons me out. I'm about to step past him, but as I do, he grabs me by the waist and pulls me into a tight embrace. His lips crashing into mine. It's full of fierce passion, and he holds me firmly in place as he devours me.

Then, as quickly as the kiss started, it's over. His hands and lips are gone. I open my eyes to see him step backward out of the elevator.

I just have time to catch his sexy, confident smirk as the doors close, and I start my decent.

I notice he's pushed the button for the ground floor, and, miraculously, it travels the whole way down without stopping once. I wonder if Mr. Cullen has some special key or button that causes it to travel without interruption. I wouldn't put it past him. Once at the lobby, I step out and join the throng of people going about their day. I don't see anyone I know, so I quickly join the crowd waiting to take the elevators up. It's not long until I'm at my desk. I'm a little late but not much later than the official start time. Victoria still makes a comment, so I say something about oversleeping, and she seems to buy it. Telling me not to let it happen again. Snarky cow. It's not like I don't make up the hours.

~TMitE~

On Wednesday, I having a meeting with my HR liaison. The graduate internship I'm on involves me progressing quickly through several departments to gain a feel for the company. After which a more permanent position is found for each of us. While we are encouraged to sample a diverse range of roles, interns often end up placed back on teams they worked with during this induction period, and so it's been drilled into us the importance to try to gain experience in areas we feel we may want to work more permanently. To help facilitate this, we have all been allocated an HR liaison.

Mrs. Johnson is a nice enough lady, but she does have a tendency to talk. A lot. I've found that once she's on a roll, it can be hard to divert her. She has the look of someone who you'd expect to be slightly disorganized, with her hair falling out of a messy bun and clothes that don't seem to quite match, with too large earrings and a pen always stuck into her hair. But I have found her to be ruthlessly efficient.

I'm looking forward to discussing my next rotation with her, feeling sure I will still be able to go to Mike's team, even if it's in a couple months rather than straight away.

After we get the usual pleasantries out the way, we discuss how things are going with Victoria and if they have improved since I last spoke to her shortly after I'd first been called up to Mr. Cullen's office. She reassures me that the favorable reviews Edward received at the time are on my file to counteract the complaint, and she's only heard good things since.

We then move on to talking about the future.

"I'm not sure we're going to be able to make this happen as your next rotation, but Mr. Newton is keen to get you on his team at some point." Her words send a bolt of disappointment through me. "You may not be aware, but he did have a couple openings that would have worked well for you, but it would have meant moving you on prematurely from your current role, and Mr. Cullen wasn't willing to waive the rules on this occasion. So unfortunately, we've had to fill those roles from elsewhere." Yes, I'm fully aware I grouse internally as she continues on her monologue.

"I know you're probably keen to move on and put the incidents from this current role behind you, and I assure you, as other interns start to move on in a couple months, lots of opportunities will become available. Until then, I suggest you get yourself out there and find out where else may be of interest." She plows on, shuffling bits of paper and reading notes.

"I've had interest expressed from Stan Digby in project management and also a couple people leading teams in acquisitions. Sandra in public relations would also love to have you onboard, in light of the charity work you do. Although, I must also confess a couple people have expressed concerns about your work following your call up to Mr. Cullen's. I've done my best to put their minds at ease, but there is still some level of caution."

Great, just great. It's at times like this that I wonder if it would have been better, or at least easier, not to have discovered what Victoria, James, and Caius are up to. No one would be calling my work onto question. I could happily move into Mike's team. My career would totally be on track. I worry about the sacrifices I'm making to help Mr. Cullen at this important point in my career. It hardly seems fair I'm making all these sacrifices to save his company from losing money. I leave Mrs. Johnson's office feeling melancholy and, if I'm honest, a little pissed, totally unsure of the best course of action.

Back at my desk, my brain continues to mull over my current situation. I suppose I'm getting great sex for my trouble, but would I sacrifice my career for great sex? Of course I wouldn't. Don't be stupid. Who would do a thing like that? Certainly not me. Even when the great sex comes from a fantastic specimen of manhood like Edward. And it's not just his body, the man himself is quiet spectacular too. Over the weeks, I've been seen glimpses of a sense of humor that is in tune with my own. And he can be extremely considerate and thoughtful. I think back over our meeting on Monday night and the package he gave me from his business trip. I know it was a freebie from the company he's acquiring, a fashion distributor, but he didn't have to pass it on to me.

The package contained several blouses and a lovely dress I plan on wearing when I see Esme this weekend. I remember how he grinned at me as I excitedly pulled out each item. He insisted on a fashion show that only involved me putting on the first blouse before he pulled me down onto the leather couch. As we slowly came together in a slow, sensual rhythm, as he looked down on me, and I lost myself in his deep, verdant eyes.

But despite these moments, moments when he shows me fragments of the real Edward, glimpses of the man behind the wall, I know I'm still nothing more to him than a fuck buddy. His desire to keep me secret and his continuing insistence that he doesn't date only go to highlight this, and I mustn't allow myself to see more in his gestures than there is.

~TMitE~

"You found us, Bella. Come on in; make yourself comfortable." It's Saturday and Esme has invited me to her house to brainstorm my speech after which we are meeting up with Alice to go shopping for a dress. With their help, I'm hoping to be able to find the perfect gown that will wow the crowds at the gala, but that I'll also feel comfortable in.

I enter the rather grand house. It's a little out of town in a suburb I dream of one day being able to live in. The taxi here drove me down tree-lined avenues before pulling into a very private-looking street. All the houses are set back from the road with immaculate front yards and expensive-looking cars parked outside. I know Carlisle is a surgeon at the city hospital, and Esme has worked in interior design. I muse that these careers must pay well. One day, I keep telling myself as I think of my little one-bedroom apartment I currently call home.

Inside the house, which could have been very imposing, there is actually a very homey feel. The color scheme is in warm shades and the lines are softened with plants and well-placed pictures. There is a lived-in feel to the entrance way with a set of men's shoes waiting by the door and a coat hung over the banister on the stairs. Soft wood furnishings lighten the area. There is a cabinet to the side with a bowl full of keys and the sort of paraphernalia that accumulates in deep pockets and the bottom of handbags. The large mirror above it bounces light from the window around the area, making it feel like a summer's day even though it's now November.

Esme leads me into a large kitchen that I am instantly envious of. There are memos and lists pinned to the fridge with magnets that appear to have been collected from around the globe. I spot ones from London, Venice, and Rome. All places I'd love to visit.

I take a seat at the kitchen island, and Esme fixes us coffee before joining me. It's not long before we have the backbone of the presentation thrashed out. Esme advices and questions me, but I realize all the ideas are actually mine. She has just helped to extract them from my muddled mind and put them into some sort of coherent order. Now all I need to do is put a little flesh onto the bones, a job I now feel confident in being able to do.

I glance at the clock and realize it's time for us to be heading out to meet Alice.

"I'll just go get my bag," says Esme as she wanders out of the room, and I hear her footsteps ascend the stairs. I pick up our coffee cups and place them in the dishwasher before grabbing my own bag to go. Then I hear the front door open.

"Esme, I'm home," I hear called out in a sing-song voice. I stick my head out of the kitchen to see a tall, blond-haired stranger. He's dressed in surgical scrubs, and I draw the conclusion this must be Esme's husband, Carlisle. He spots me and smiles.

"You must be Bella?" he enquires.

I step out into the hall fully, smiling at this handsome older man. Esme certainly did well. "That's me," I say as I reach out and shake his hand.

"So, you girls are about to go out shopping, I hear."

"That's right," I reply.

He starts to walk into the room opposite the kitchen that I now notice is some sort of living room with sofas set around a currently unlit open fire. I follow him in.

"Esme's been looking forward to this all week. I hope you find something good. She can't stop talking about that charity of yours. It sounds like a good cause. I hope you're able to raise a lot of support at the gala."

I look around the room as he talks, spotting a collection of family photos on the mantle over the fireplace. I've been curious about Esme's family, especially her wayward son, since he nearly cancelled on her at Carlisle's birthday. I walk closer to get a better look. Then I stop dead in my tracks.

There, in front of me, is Edward, Mr. Cullen. He's smiling back at me from the first photo, dressed in graduation robes. He looks younger, but there is no mistaking the copper hair and the sexy smirk. I feel my heart start to race, and the hairs on the back of my neck start to prickle.

"Who's this?" I ask, even though I know the answer. Carlisle turns in my direction and walks over to see what I'm looking at.

"Oh, that's Edward, our son. This was taken when he got his Master's in Business Administration." I glance at his proud smile then back at the picture before looking farther along the line of photos. There are a few more of Edward, some with Esme and Carlisle, some on his own. They are obviously very proud of their son. Then I see one that makes my blood run cold.

"Who that's with him there?" I ask, indicating a photo in the middle. He's still young in it, and he has his arm around a smiling blonde lady, who is looking up at him as if he hung the moon, and the look on his face is not that different. His face is softer than it is now, softened further by the smile on his lips, crinkling his eyes.

"Oh, that's Lisa," says Carlisle, picking up the photo and staring down at it.

"Lisa?" I ask weakly, thinking maybe she's a family friend but knowing she is more.

He looks up at me and half smiles. "Edward's wife, our daughter-in-law." He looks like he is going to say more, but I can't hear more. I feel physically sick, my heart is racing, and I need to get out of there fast.

"Sorry, Carlisle, I need to use the bathroom," I say, backing away from him and the photo that tells me how much Edward has lied to me, how much I've been taken for a fool. As I reach the door, I turn and run, opening a door off the hall I'd used earlier.

As I hide in the bathroom, I ponder what to do. I have to get away. I need time to think. I feel lightheaded. How could he do this to me? I look at myself in the mirror, and I hardly recognize the person looking back. I'm pale and my skin looks clammy.

Taking a deep breath, I open the door to be confronted by a concerned Carlisle, standing in the entrance to the living room, still clutching the incriminating photo in his hand.

"I don't feel too well," I splutter out.

"You do look a little pale," he observes. "Can I get you a glass of water? Come and sit down for a moment while I fetch Esme."

Shit, no. I can't face Esme. How can I look her in the eye? "That's okay, Dr. Cullen. I think I should probably just go home. I think I just need to rest. Could you please give my apologies to Esme?" As I talk, I'm backing up toward the door. I bend down and grab the bag I'd dropped, reach for the door handle, and then I'm out.

"Bella?" I hear Carlisle call.

"I'll be okay," I call back over my shoulder. "Tell Esme I'll call her to rearrange when I'm feeling better." And then I'm down the drive and marching at top speed toward the larger street at the end of the road without looking back.

Tears are streaming down my face, and it's a wonder I'm even able to make out the cab to wave it down and get inside. As I settle back in the seat, I become aware of my phone vibrating in my pocket. I pull in out and see Esme's name. God, what can I say to her? How do I explain running out of there like that? I can't talk to her in my current state. I let the phone go to voicemail then send her a quick text telling her I'm fine and I'll phone her later. The phone rings again instantly, but I turn in off and shove in into my bag as if it's poison. Not only is Edward the son of my good friend Esme, but he's married to someone else. Someone he obviously loves, and who loves him back. I'm the other woman. The homewrecker. How do I live with that?

* * *

A/N So I found some time at my parents house to write and I've now snuck off at my sisters to post. I'm doing it from my phone so I hope it works. I may even managed to reply to some reviews while sat watching the kids in the garden. I'm sorry if I don't get to you all at the moment. I do read and truly appreciate them all. I can't believe I'm now above 500 reviews. The response to this story just blows me away.

The next chapter is nearly finished, but writing will be hard for a while. I'm off to the in-laws next on my UK travels. Fingers crossed I get some time to write and edit so I don't leave you with this cliff hanger for too long.

Thanks, as always, to Alice's White Rabbit and Robstenfanpire for all their helping in whipping this into shape.


	10. Chapter 10

TMitE Chapter 10

I phone Alice the next day. I have an important request for her. I also owe her an explanation for standing her up yesterday, and, judging from the number of missed calls she's left since I turned off my phone yesterday, she's pretty desperate for answers.

Talking of missed calls, I seem to have a similar number from Esme, but I can't deal with that yet. What do I say to her? How do I explain running out of there yesterday?

Alice first. I did manage to pull myself together enough, after getting back to my apartment yesterday, to drop her a quick text. But all I said was I couldn't make it and I'd call her later before I once again turned off my phone. And it stayed off all night.

I spent the time trying to get my head straight. I sought solace in my bed, hiding under my covers, similar to how I did as a child when I knew I'd done wrong and didn't want to face my mother. I lay there for hours, curled up into a tight ball, but I didn't sleep.

I cried; I shouted; I felt numb; I felt too much.

I know Edward was never mine, but I still have this overwhelming sense of loss. Loss of what I'm not sure, but the feeling is there all the same. Even after twenty-four hours, I'm still struggling to get my head around the reality that Edward has a wife. He reassured me time and time again he wasn't seeing anyone else. After what Alex did to me, there is no way I would get involved with a married man. I've thought over all my time with him since we met a few weeks ago. I've looked for hints and clues that I was being fooled, yet I've come up blank. But I know what I need to do. My mind is made up. Things have to change. The call connects and I take a deep breath.

"Bella! Thank God. Are you OK? You've had me really worried."

Alice launches straight in with the questions.

"I'm fine, Alice, honestly," I reply. "I'm sorry about yesterday, but I wasn't feeling very well so I switched off my phone and went to bed." It's all true. I'm just glossing over the reason for feeling so shitty. "Anyway," I plow on before she can ask any further questions, "I phoned to ask a favor."

"Anything, Bella; ask away."

"You mentioned the other day there may be a job going at your place. Would you still be willing to put in a good word for me with your boss?"

"Holy cow, Bella! What's happened? I thought, despite everything, you were happy at CMH. What's changed?"

"I've just reached the conclusion it's not the place for me anymore. I need to move on. I can't waste any more time doing things that just aren't right, being somewhere that has no future for me. I need to move on and start afresh, find something that's a better fit, that can lead to something more."

"Well, I'll definitely pass on your CV to Rosalie and put in a good word for you. It would be great to work with you, and I'm sure you'll really love working at McCarty's. I think you'll find it a breath of fresh air after being in the large corporation that is CMH. I get the feeling we're a little more relaxed over here."

"That's great to hear Alice. I think it's just what I need."

~TMitE~

I don't have to wait long for feedback. Having emailed my CV to Alice that night, I get a call on Monday afternoon from Ms. Rosalie Hale. She gets straight to the point and invites me for an interview with her on Wednesday at lunchtime. It doesn't give me long to prepare, but in my current state of mind, I jump at the opportunity.

Monday had been traveling painfully slowly. I deliberately arrived late in order to avoid seeing Mr. Cullen in the elevator, and I've spent much of the day desperately trying to think of an excuse not to see him after work. I know I have to face him at some point and get some answers, but I don't feel up to it yet. Everything is still so raw. I still have some work to do on the project, and I'm as keen as ever to get it completed with a positive outcome, but whatever we have going on between us has to stop. It's not a conversation I'm looking forward to.

But it turns out I'm going to get a temporary stay of execution. I get a text message from Edward, not long after I speak with Ms. Hale, saying he needs to postpone our meeting until Tuesday. He thinks it's time I met his liaison at the FBI fraud division. The agent can't make Monday but is able to meet with the two of us on Tuesday instead. This also means when I see him, we won't be alone. I can't decide if this is a good thing or a bad thing. On the one hand, I'm not looking forward to confronting him. On the other, procrastination never solved anything.

Tuesday goes by even slower. For the first time ever, I'm dreading going to the hospital at lunchtime. How do I look Esme in the eye? Judging from the way Carlisle spoke, he and Esme obviously think very highly of their daughter-in-law. I feel physically sick, my stomach tied up in knots, as I enter the hospital ward. I'm also a little confused. Now I've gotten over the initial shock, I've been thinking back over all the conversations I've had with Esme about her son; about Edward. Never once has she mentioned a wife. I remember the conversation we had where I accused her of setting him up with me. It was the perfect time for her to point out he was already taken, but she didn't.

"Jake's asked to see you," says Mrs. Cope, looking up as I approach her. "Good lord, Bella, are you okay? You look as white as a sheet."

"I'm okay; I just didn't sleep well last night." Or the night before, or the one before that either.

"As long as that's all it is. You know you shouldn't be here if you're ill."

"I know, but trust me, what's wrong is not catching."

"What's not catching?"

I look around and there's Esme, looking as glamorous and elegant as ever. "Oh, Bella," she exclaims, drawing me into a tight embrace. One I know I don't deserve but that I really need. I allow myself to sink into it, desperately trying to push my guilt away. "Does this have anything to do with why you ran out of my house like the devil was after you on Saturday?"

"No, yes, maybe," I confess. She pulls back and looks at me.

"After we've finished here, we're going for our usual coffee, then you can either tell me all about it, or, if you're not ready, we can have our usual natter. But I'm here for you, okay? You can tell me as much or as little as you want."

She looks at me as I nod my head, and I force myself to look up into her eyes. She is everything I would have hoped my mother to be at this stage of my life, but she's not my mother. She's his. And she's her mother-in-law. The woman I've wronged.

I can't let Esme know what her son had been up to with me. I can't be the one to disappoint her like that. I'll meet with her, but I can't let her know why I'm upset. I will not be the one to tear her world apart.

"Okay, Esme, I'll see you after I've seen Jake and Ms. Palmer."

~TMitE~

I can tell as soon as I enter the room that Jake is having a bad day. His face is pale, and there are dark shadows under his eyes that speak of a deep-rooted tiredness. He's getting near the end of this round of chemo, and it's taking its toll. I hug him as I approach, and the smile that lights up his face, despite his obvious discomfort, puts my worries into perspective. If he can be cheerful with all that he's going through, I can tough this out too.

"That's not a real smile," he remarks as I pull back and take a seat. "Tell Uncle Jake all about it."

"Uncle Jake? There is no way you could be my uncle. I'm at least five years older than you."

"Meh, what's five years? Besides, in life experiences, I'm at least 10 years your senior. So spill. What's eating at you?"

"Just men trouble." I try and wave it off.

"Men?" His face falls. "You mean I'm not the only man in your life. I'm hurt, Bells. I thought we had something special."

Now I'm devastated. Surely, Jake knows we're only friends. Then I see the twinkle around his eyes, and before I know it, the corner of his mouth is curling up into a grin. "I'm sorry, Bella. I know you think I'm too young for you." He winks, and I swat at this arm. Gently. I know he bruises easily at the moment. "But why is this the first I'm hearing about this man who is causing you distress? I thought we were friends?"

"We are, but boy stuff is what you usually talk about with your girlfriends. Besides, you don't need to be worrying about me."

In addition, my relationship with Mr. Cullen is R rated, and Jake is still only just eighteen.

"It may be good to get the male perspective. I admit, my experience may be limited, the girls don't exactly flock to the sickly looking guy with no hair, but I'd still like to help if I can."

"Don't," I say warningly. I hate when he puts himself down like that. "You know the right girl won't worry about the cancer. Besides, your dad said you received a card and present from a girl at school last week."

"Yeah, Nessie," says Jake, and I can't fail to spot the blush that creeps up his cheeks. He likes this girl too. "But stop trying to distract me. Tell me about this man who has stolen you from me."

I shake my head as I look at him closely, gauging what exactly to tell him. "I've been kind of seeing this guy. Then this weekend, I found out he is probably already in a relationship with someone else."

"Probably?" asks Jake.

"Well, I kind of found out he's married."

"Ouch," says Jake, "and he never told you?"

I shake my head.

"You don't deserve to be the other woman, Bells. Find someone who can give you everything you deserve. Who will wine and dine you and take you dancing. Someone like me." He gives me his cheeky wide smile.

"If only you were five years older, Jake," I say, grinning back at him.

"Ageist," he relies, teasingly. "Seriously though, you deserve better. If a man messes you around and isn't in a position to give you a future, you need to dump him. You're not getting any younger, you know. I know how you older women worry about your biological clock."

"Hey," I protest, "I'm only 23. My biological clock has many more ticks in it, I'll have you know."

And that's exactly how my good friend Jake cheers me up. But his words stick with me. Even if Edward weren't married, could he really give me what I deserve? I know there's no future in our relationship. He has made it perfectly clear he doesn't date, or isn't in a position to date. So what am I doing with him? I keep pondering things as I read to Ms. Palmer, who also notices I'm not really myself today.

"Whatever it is, dear, go and talk to him."

"What? Who?" She has totally thrown me with her unsolicited advice. I've never mentioned a man to her.

"In my experience, when a young girl looks as miserable as you, it's usually about a man," she says, smiling fondly. "Unless, it's about a woman," she tacks on quickly. "I know this is the modern age and different stokes for different folks and all that. I'm all for the lesbians and gays. I'm sure my friend, Silvie, back in college, was one of those lesbians. She certainly kept trying to get me alone. But it really wasn't my thing."

I love Ms. Palmer and her oversharing.

"You're right; I do need to talk to _him_. But first, I need to know the facts."

"That's a good girl. Life's too short to be worrying about the what ifs and maybes. Communication, that's the key. Now finish reading to me about how Roberto is going to seduce Christina in the rose garden. We're just getting to the juicy part."

~TMitE~

Esme and I have found a quiet table in the canteen, and she's filling me in on Carlisle's latest attempt to cook, which apparently always end in disaster, but she loves him for trying. I know she is deliberately avoiding asking me about my problems. Leaving me to make up my own mind about whether or not to open up to her. But I see her watching me carefully and the slight worry in her eyes.

"Esme," I interrupt, "can I ask you a question?"

"Of course, dear, anything."

"I saw some pictures of your son at your house. He's Edward Cullen of CMH, isn't he? I was a little confused, as you don't share the same name."

"That's right, dear," she says smiling. "I kept my surname when I married. Carlisle and Edward go by Cullen though. Do you know him?"

"I work at CMH." I wonder what else to say. How to get to the answers I'm looking for. I don't want to lie to her, but I also don't want to tell her everything. "He tends to keep to himself." It's the truth.

"I've heard he can be a little closed off," she replies sadly. "He wasn't always like that," she continues. "When Lisa was here, he got out more. She brought the best out of him. I miss her. I miss who he was with her."

"Lisa?" I question. "His wife?" Now I'm getting to the answers I need, but it doesn't seem to be the story I was expecting.

Esme nods. "She's the one I'm here to honor," she says. "You remember me saying I lost someone close to me to cancer a few years back? Well, that was Lisa. It hit the family hard. She was like a daughter to Carlisle and me, and Edward adored her."

I see the tears prick at the edge of her eyes. Talking about this is still obviously painful. I don't know how to feel. I feel a sense of relief that Edward is no longer married. That I've not been having sex with a married man. That I'm not the other woman. But I'm also devastated Edward and Esme had to go through this. It explains so much about his behavior and attitude. I understand now why he's not willing to enter into a proper relationship. Why we have no future. He's had his happy ever after, and it was taken from him.

Seeing the first tear run down Esme's cheek, I push my feelings to one side and take her into my arms. We hold each other, each of us gaining support from the other. No matter what happens with Edward and me, I want this woman to be a part of my life.

Eventually, Esme pulls away.

"So now I've cried on your shoulder, do you want to return the favor and tell me what's upset you."

Now I really don't know what to say. I go for the highlights. "I'd kind of started seeing a man, but I don't think he's right for me. I thought he was what I wanted. What I needed at the moment, and I think for a while he was. But now, I'm not so sure."

"What's the problem?"

"There's no future in it. He's made that perfectly clear."

"And you want there to be a future with his man?"

Now there's a question. If I could have a future with Edward, would I want one? "I don't know. I didn't at the start. Hell, I was still getting over Alex. I wasn't looking for anything with a future. But things change. Shouldn't I at least be in a position to find a man who can give me a future. I know I'm going to find it hard to trust someone again after Alex, but shouldn't I at least be trying?"

"You say things change. You've changed. Could he also change?"

"I don't think he's ready," I confess. If Esme's tears and pain are anything to go by, Edward must still be grieving also. "I don't know if he ever will be."

"So you need to decide if you're willing to wait for him or if it's time to move on?"

"I think that's it in a nut shell," I reply.

She takes my hand and squeezes it. "Whatever decision you make, I'm sure it'll be the right one." I hope she's right.

~TMitE~

I'm feeling more confident about seeing Edward when I get back to the office. I know I have some decisions to make, and I need to think seriously about the future, but for now, my mind is at rest. We are getting to the point in our project where the data is looking solid and conclusive. We will soon be handing over the data to the authorities and getting the three of them arrested for their crimes. And tonight's meeting lets me know Edward and I are on the same page. This project is drawing to a close.

The meeting is scheduled for seven, and I once again use Embry to sneak me back into the building. I make sure I have all my files together then tuck my laptop into my bag and ride up to the 27th floor. As I step out, I see Mr. Cullen shaking hands with a blond gentleman who is nearly as tall has he is. He's dressed in a button-down shirt and slacks but is tieless, and his hair is cut slightly longer, falling to his ears in soft waves. He's an attractive man, but, in my eyes at least, pales in comparison to the man standing beside him, who still sets butterflies off inside my stomach every time I see him. There is no doubting I'm still very attracted to Mr. Cullen. Will I really be able to walk away from him? Am I ready to say goodbye to what we have, knowing it will never progress to anything more?

Edward's voice pulls me out of my musings. "Ahh, Bella, there you are." He smiles fully in my direction. "Come and meet Agent Whitlock of the fraud section."

I step forward and shake the officer's hand. He has a firm grip that talks of power, but he smiles with a twinkle in his eye, which speaks of someone who's not afraid to have fun.

"It's good to meet you," I say, returning his smile as Edward leads us into his office, shutting the door and motioning for us to join him at the boardroom table, where another, older, balding man is seated. He is introduced to Agent Whitlock and me as Mr. Jenks, Edward's attorney, who will be representing the company in the case.

It soon becomes clear that Edward has already been working with Agent Whitlock and talking with Mr. Jenks as they discuss, with input from me, how the evidence has been building up. Both men seem familiar with the data we've gathered, and Agent Whitlock pays me compliments for the tags and markers I wrote into the files that have allowed us to see the changes being made and by whom. He seems very knowledgeable about the case and points out where we still have a couple holes in the data that need plugging, and he quickly helps me set up the last couple traps.

"So, it looks like these last few pieces of the puzzle should be in place by the end of next week, then we will be in a position to charge them," declares Agent Whitlock as the meeting draws to a close.

"I'll walk you to the lobby," says Edward, closing down his laptop and slipping on his coat. I do likewise, and the four of us head out to the elevators.

During the ride down, Edward, Agent Whitlock, and Mr. Jenks make small talk. I'm just thinking about the future. With the project coming to a close and my meeting with Rosalie Hale tomorrow, I have a lot of decisions to make.

~TMitE~

I'm nearly late out of the office Wednesday at lunchtime as I attempt to end a meeting with Victoria on time. Rosalie is aware I've not discussed moving on with my current employer—yet. So she's scheduled our interview for a small coffee shop just around the corner from the CMH office. When I enter, I see her sitting at a secluded booth near the back. She looks just as Alice described, from the long blonde curls, to the immaculate suit, to the tower heels. She looks like she could easily be a model, and I start to get nervous. I run my palms down my suit, take a deep breath, hold my head up high, and stride over. She sees me approaching and smiles. This helps to soften her features and makes her look a lot more approachable, and I start to relax. If I'm going to be working closely with his woman, I can't let her intimidate me.

"Bella Swan?" she asks, standing and holding out her hand.

"Pleased to meet you, Ms. Hale. Thank you for this opportunity."

"Oh, please, call me Rosalie. We're a little less formal at McCarty's than you are over at CMH. I know Mr. Cullen likes his employees to use his title, but you'll find my husband only goes my Emmett."

"Your husband?" I ask.

"Sorry, didn't Alice say. Emmett McCarty, the company CEO and co-owner, is my other half. We're kind of a family outfit. I let him think he runs the whole thing, and he lets me do my own projects. It all works out well."

The waitress approaches and Rosalie orders a black coffee. I go for my usual latte. Then we're down to business.

She asks me about why I might be interested in moving on, about my work to date, and my ambitions for the future. She pulls out some documents for a project she's working on and asks my opinion. I point out a few areas of concern I can see in the deal and some questions I'd like to have answers to before I'd be willing to commit to it, and she seems pleased with my response. She even goes so far as to ask my opinion on whether the project should go ahead or not. I answer truthfully: that with the current issues, I'd say no, but that with a few changes, I think it could be a great deal. We then discuss those changes and how they could be implemented.

She tells me a little about the company. It's smaller than CMH, but it's growing, and the smaller size, she tells me, has advantages. Each person covers a much broader area of responsibility, so the breadth of experience I'd build up in a short period would be greater. She also points out they are very flexible, so if I'm interested in a particular project or area of the business, there is every opportunity to get involved with it. She says I'd be starting on her team, working alongside Alice, and I'd be expected to hit the ground running. She lets me know that they work hard but also have fun, that the company likes to foster a family environment with get-togethers at most holidays, the next one being the Thanksgiving weekend family hog roast.

The interview is relaxed yet also taxing. At the end, she is still smiling, which I see as a good sign, and her parting words are all positive.

"Thank you, Bella. It has been delightful to meet with you, and I will be in touch. I'd like to think you'll find McCarty's somewhere you can spread your wings and really fly."

She stands up and reaches out to take my hand. I give her what I hope is a firm and confident shake and thank her for seeing me. We then part our ways. I go back to the office, exhausted but full of ideas and optimism.

~TMitE~

By Thursday evening, I've still not heard from Rosalie about the job, and I'm beginning to think that no news probably means it's going to be bad news. I'm nervous about being alone with Edward. So much has happened since I last saw him. I've found out about his wife, I've realized I know his mother, and I've interviewed for another job. How much, if any, of this do I tell him?

I figure the job offer is probably a moot point, so there is no point in rocking that particular boat. I also figure if he wanted me to know about his wife, he would have told me, and it's not the sort of thing that is easy to bring up. So I decide once again to keep quiet. But what about Esme? It's probably only a matter of time until she talks to him about me as we are getting closer and spending more time together. But is now the time to bring it up? We are so close to the end of the project. I've done the extra work Agent Whitlock suggested. Now we just need to wait until next week to allow the last pieces of the puzzle to slide into place. In fact, I actually have nothing to discuss with Edward this evening. I contemplate not going up. Letting him know there is no need for a meeting and just going home.

But then the project is ending. Which will mean the end of our meetings, the end of my time with Edward. A feeling deep in my gut tells me I can't bail tonight. My body still craves him. I can go up and see him this one last time, work him out of my system and say goodbye. Even if the job at McCarty's doesn't come through, by this time next week, we will be wrapping the project up and that will be the end.

So with a heavy heart, I sneak back into CMH and travel up to the 27th floor.

I enter his room after knocking, still feeling a little apprehensive, but I've only taken a few steps when he commands me to stop. I glance at him briefly, taking in his penetrating stare, then allow my gaze to fall down to the floor, unable to look him in the eye. I hear him rise, walk to the other side of his desk, and lean back against it.

"I want to get a good look at you," he says in an authoritative tone, and, even though I don't look up, I can feel his eyes roam over my body.

I hear a small sigh escape him. When he speaks again, his voice is still demanding, but there is a slightly softer edge to it. "Stand up tall, Bella. Look at me." I look up, and his eyes seem to bore into my soul as if he's looking for something, something elusive, something only he can see. "You are so beautiful. It never fails to amaze me." His voice is softer still, and I remember how this man makes me feel confident, bold, sexy, and, yes, beautiful. I'm here for a purpose. I want tonight to be mind-blowing, but I need to play my part. I take a deep breath and follow his instructions. I stand tall and continue to look him straight in the eye. So, he didn't tell me things about his past, but he had no reason to. We don't have that kind of relationship. He doesn't tell me about his personal life, and I don't tell him about mine. It was a good arrangement while it lasted, but all good things come to an end. And I'm going out with a bang.

"Turn around. Slowly," he commands, and I comply. I keep my eyes glued to his for as long as I can, trying to see the man beneath the façade, but his walls seem to be up again. Tonight, it would appear I'm visiting Mr. Cullen, in his full possessive, controlling glory, and part of me is pleased. Part of me needs this.

Then I feel him behind me, and my breath stops. He is so close. I can feel the heat rolling off him, but he is barely touching me. I feel his breath at my ear as he whispers to me. "I'm going to show you how fucking great we are together. I'm going to make you realize how much your body needs mine, how you belong to me and me alone." I feel my body shiver at his words as it instinctively responds to him as it always has. Yes, this is what I need. I need to feel him, to be possessed by him. One last curtain call before the end. Let's make it a good one.

"The first time I fucked you in this room, I gave you the choice of where. I'm going to give you that choice again tonight." Does he also recognize that this is our last time together? That with the project ending, there is no more reason for us to meet? He must know we can't carry on, mustn't he?

"So, Bella, tell me, where do you want me? Where in this room should I make you scream my name?"

I think over all the places we've made love in this room. Or, I suppose I should say fucked. There was never any love involved. I take in the couch, where he made me shudder as he bent me over the back and entered me hard and fast, and where we lay in each other's arms, panting and spent after a vigorous session. His desk, the scene of so many encounters, including the blowjob last week—was that only ten days ago? It feels like a lifetime. The window, with the city lights below and the stars above. The bookcase, where I learned about his love of books, and his slightly nerdy side, as well as his ability to hold me up in his arms while screwing me senseless. The boardroom table. The scene where we first came together in this office after discovering who we both were.

Yes. That seems fitting. To have him take me there again, on his boardroom table.

He must catch where I'm looking. "My boardroom table, Bella? Is that where you want this to happen?" I nod my head. "Then that is where it shall be then. But first, you are wearing far too many clothes."

His hands reach forward and start to unbutton my blouse. His lips are still close to my ear, and as he works, they brush lightly over my neck, scarcely touching but sending shivers throughout my whole body.

It's not long until I'm totally naked, and he has only touched me with the lightest of caresses necessary to remove my clothes and to tease me mercilessly with his barely there kisses. It's only when all my clothes have been discarded that he comes around to view me from the front. He once again looks me up and down before fixing me with those brilliant yet penetrating eyes, as his lips come down to meet mine. There is nothing subtle about the kiss. He is letting me know that, in this moment, he's in charge of what's happening, of my body, of me. I gasp as his arms suddenly reach around me, pulling my legs up around his waist as he picks me up and carries me over to the table. He lays me back and he then proceeds to run kisses and touches down the entire length of my body, leaving no area undiscovered. It responds like it always does, and it's not long after his mouth makes contact with my core that I reach my first climax of the evening.

But he seems to be a man on a mission tonight, and he doesn't let me rest. I feel him slide inside me, and it feels so right. I look up at him as he stands tall and naked at the end of the table and pushes into me, again and again. His hands cup my breasts, and he knows exactly what to do to bring me back to the edge. As I shatter again, he leans forward and kisses me, swallowing my cries as he wraps his arms around my back, pulling me upright with him as he straightens back up. I'm now perched on the edge of the table, and he holds me close and continues to push into me. The new angle adds new sensations, and I wrap my legs around him to help pull him closer with each thrust. My arms are around his neck, my hands running through his hair and over his shoulders. His arms continue to hold me close. I know I'm going to come again, it's only a matter of time, and I can feel he's getting close, his pace picking up and his breath getting shorter. He pulls back slightly and watches me, staring straight into my eyes as he moves inside me. I stare back, taking in the passion, the fire, and I see what could almost be an edge of sorrow there.

"Come for me again, Bella," he murmurs. "Give it to me one last time. I really need to feel you again before I finish." His voice is low and husky, and as he talks, one hand comes up my back and around to cup my face. He holds me in place, stroking his thumb across my cheek in a surprisingly tender motion. He kisses me again, and I feel my end in sight.

"Edward," I whisper against his lips then come tightly around his cock. I feel him shudder and also whisper my name as he joins me in our shared release. Our breaths are joined, and he brings his forehead to rest against mine as we ride out the wave together. My eyes are closed, and I just allow myself to enjoy the moment without worries of the future.

We both seem to need a moment to get our breaths, and our bodies, back under control, but as we do, I feel him pull back from me. But, thankfully, it's not for long. I find myself being picked up, and before I can think, we are sitting on the couch, me on his lap with his arms around me, my head resting on his shoulder.

"Bella, I wish … I'm not sure what I wish, to be honest." He pauses for a moment, and I wonder where all this is coming from. His voice sounds melancholy. Wistful even. I wait him out, and he finally sighs deeply.

"You deserve a vacation when this is all over. Why don't you take a couple weeks? The week after next is Thanksgiving anyway. You could go and see your folks."

It wasn't what I was expecting, and it takes me a moment to register he's waiting for a response. "I can't take vacation at this short notice," I splutter.

"And why not? Your department is going to be in disarray. There's not likely to be much work happening. Besides, I'd like you out of the way, in case things kick off. I've put you in enough danger as it is." His voice is soft, and his hand is rubbing over my back. That action helps to soothe me.

"I've told you, Edward, I don't want special attention," I say with a sigh.

"For fuck's sake, Bella. It's not special attention." His hand stops moving, but he continues to hold me close against his chest. "You've been working really hard on this project. I would reward any member of the staff who went above and beyond as you have over the last few months. To be honest, a vacation is the least I, and the company, owe you. It has absolutely nothing to do with us screwing. If it makes you feel any better, take it out of your annual leave."

He sounds exasperated, and I know some time away from the office is probably a good idea. "Okay," I agree, "I'll take a couple weeks off. Recharge my batteries."

"What do you think you'll do with the time? Do your parents live nearby?" His hand goes back to rubbing my back.

"It's only my dad now. My mom died of cancer when I was 12." I feel him stiffen under me, and his hand halts in its movement down my back. I realize my mistake.

I hear him clear his throat as I hold my breath. Will he mention her? His hand starts to move again. "Do you still miss her?"

"Of course, I always will, especially around holidays. But you learn to cope, and it gets easier."

"That's what they tell me." He says the words so quietly I almost don't hear them. "And I suppose it's true. We all have to move on." His voice has taken on an almost puzzled edge, and I wonder what he's thinking.

He seems to almost physically pull himself out of his reverie with a small shake of his head. "Tell me something happy. Something about the future," he mutters into my hair.

"The future's a little uncertain at the moment," I confess.

"So tell me about the future you want? Tell me your ambitions, your hopes, your dreams?"

"Hopes and dreams? I guess I want the usual stuff eventually. The husband, the house, the 2.4 kids, and the golden retriever. But I'm in no hurry. I'm young and, as I said before, right now, I'm concentrating on my career."

"And where do you see that going, Miss Swan?"

I smile. This is safe ground. This I know. "To the top, Mr. Cullen."

"Is that so?" I can hear the smile in his voice too. "Tell me more."

"I want to gain experience in how a company works, how it functions, but I don't plan to stay at the bottom for long. I love the idea of leading a team, seeing my ideas taking shape, making a positive change. And I'm going to do it all on my own merit. Not because my father is chairman of the board, or my daddy is best friends with the CEO. It will all be because I was the best person for the job. And I will be. I intend to be the best."

"And you joined us because you thought CMH could give you that? You saw this as being where you could make those dreams come true?"

"I did," I say with a sigh as I draw patterns in his light chest hair. "You've built a great company, Edward. I did a lot of research before starting here. It looked like the ideal place to let me stretch my wings, to learn how to fly, and eventually, to soar and achieve all my goals. I love the way you promote from within, giving hard workers the chance to gain experience then rise through the ranks. It's a real meritocracy, not an old boys club. It seemed a place where, with hard work and dedication, I could go far. Where I could become a success."

"Could?" he asks. "Has the reality proved different from the promise?" His voice is soft and steady, but I detect a little tension in his body. I wonder where this conversation is leading.

"No," I shake my head as I try to put into words what needs to be said. "This is a great company, and I've learned a lot being here, especially from you. You've taught me so much, and I'd love to learn more; there is still so much to learn. The opportunities here are fantastic. I know I could have a great career here."

"I sense a 'but' coming," he says, and I feel him tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear then stroke his hand down though the long strands, the tips of his fingers gently brushing my neck. It's comforting.

I smile again and lift my head to look up at him. He has always been able to read me so well. "But, now any progress I make will have a small shadow over it. When it comes out about this project, there will always be people who think I got that promotion or other because I helped you out with this. Which isn't that big a deal. I worked hard on this project and getting rewarded for doing my job well is obviously not a bad thing."

"Then what is a bad thing?" His eyebrows are drawn together in concentration as he listens to me talk.

"My own doubts over each step I'll take on the ladder. I know you promised not to interfere in my career, but how can you not be involved and influenced by the relationship we've had? How can I be sure each move is due to my work in the office and not my work under your desk, especially as I start to move into more senior positions where you will have a say in my appointment." I sigh and rest my head back on his chest. "But these are worries for the future, not for today."

He holds me close, and I feel him press his lips to the top of my head. "Your right, Bella. Let's worry about these things tomorrow." His words are barely a whisper, and his final sentence is so quiet I barely make it out, but the words stick with me. They make it clear to me he knows the end of the project is the end of us too. "But I understand. I have to let you go. I have to let you fly."

* * *

A/N Hurrah - I got it out on time. Quite a long one, but I hope you liked it and it gave you some answers. I know some of you don't like the idea of Edward being in love with someone else in the past, but I personally don't think it stops him loving Bella when he finds her, or makes the love they then share any less. If it really upsets you, that's fine and I understand. See you in a couple weeks.


	11. Chapter 11

**A slightly shorter chapter this week, but its a change of POV and introduces a new character and lets you have in insight into what Edward's been thinking, so hopefully you'll enjoy it. This chapter wraps around the end of the last chapter, kicking off after Bella's interview with Rosalie and going to the Friday after her last 'session' with Edward on the Thursday night.**

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Chapter 11 - EmPOV

"I want her, Emmett." Rosalie breezes into my office, no knock, no preamble, no "how are you doing, sweet hubby of mine," no welcoming kiss, just straight to business. But, that's my Rosie. And I love her for it.

"Who, Rosie? A little more detail might be in order." I know she's been interviewing someone today but I like to play dumb.

"You know who I mean. Alice's friend. The one from CMH. I want her."

"Good interview then?"

"Good? She was fantastic. I gave her the file on the Peterson deal. Not only did she spot all the issues I'm already working on, but she highlighted at least two others I'm going to need to look at. One of which could be a deal breaker. If we'd not spotted it, it could have cost us a shit-ton of money. That woman has some eye for detail."

"So, did she say why she wants to move on?" Rosie may like her, but I read her CV too. It's unusual for someone to leave CMH after such a short period of time. Hell, I'd be suspicious of anyone looking to move on after only a few months. It reeks of a lack of commitment.

"I admit she was a little cagey on that, and I suspect there's more to the story than she's letting on. I think there may be some sort of harassment going on, although I can't be sure. She talked about it not being the place for her any more. How it was not a good fit, how no corporation can be right for everyone. But, from the way she acted, I think there may be more to the story."

"You know I'm going to have to talk to him? Especially if you think she's leaving because of something serious."

"I know, I know. That's why I didn't offer her the job there and then. But I want her, Emmett. I'm going to be really pissed if he decides he wants to keep her. You know we should just make her the offer and let her make up her own mind."

"He's a friend, Rosie. You don't piss on your buds I need to give him the opportunity to resolve the issue if he wants to keep her. He needs to know there's a problem. Besides, if she's as good as you say she is, he may well have his eye on her. He may want to offer her a move to another department, a larger paycheck, a better office, fire the person who's causing the problem. I don't know. If it's a problem that can be resolved, he deserves the opportunity to do that, if he chooses. We'd expect the same from him, if the positions were reversed."

"I know. But, Emmett, don't let him talk you out of making the offer. She is shit hot, and I think she'd flourish here with the more open working environment we have. She'd be able to really branch out, to grow and bloom into the fantastic business woman I know she's going to be."

I grin broadly at my wife. "Since when did you go in for the colorful metaphors?"

"Shut up," she retorts intelligently. Did I tell you my wife has a master's degree from a top flight school? She turns to leave but stops at the door.

"Try to persuade him, Emmett. I'll make it worth your while." She gives me that look. The one that lets me know I'm getting lucky. God, I love this woman. I need to get onto Edward now. I have to make this happen.

I watch Rosie's ass saunter out my office, keeping my eyes on it until she rounds the corner. I am one lucky man. Then I pick up the phone and make the call.

"You busy tonight, Eddie boy?" I ask as he answers.

"Emmett. It's good to hear from you, but please don't call me that. How's business?" That's Edward to a tee. Always formal. Always business. But he wasn't always like that. He used to know how to relax and have fun. But that's another story.

I chuckle. I'll play things your way for now, buddy. "Business is good; we're picking up some interesting new projects, and Rosie has us branching out into a few new areas. It means we're taking on new staff, which brings me to the purpose of this call and my desire to meet you for a beer tonight. How about that place near you? The Tavern, isn't it?" The new girl, Alice, has been raving about this place. I think it's time I checked it out.

"I'm kind of busy, Emmett. This is short notice."

"Sorry, pal, but I've got Rosie breathing down my neck. I either talk to you tonight or I'm sure she's going to cut me off, and big E needs his playtime, you know what I'm saying."

"Fuck, Emmett. I do not need to know the details of what you and Rosalie get up to, or not, in the privacy of your own bedroom."

"Just because you ain't getting any, doesn't mean the rest of us have to abstain. If you had a shit-hot wife like Rosie, you'd be bragging about getting it on too." As soon as I say it, I realize my mistake. That's my problem; without Rosie to kick me, I'm forever opening my jaws and inserting my foot. Sometimes both at once.

"Well, been there, done that," he says tightly. Shit, now I've gone and depressed him. Why can't I learn to keep my mouth shut?

"I'm sorry, Edward. That was insensitive. But it really would be good to catch up. We've not had a good chat in, like, forever. And I really do have something I need to talk to you about. Something work-related."

I hear him sigh. "Okay," he relents. "But not at the place near here."

"Still not socializing with the minions?" He really has a thing about being the boss and not mixing with his employees.

"Let's just say it's best to go somewhere else. How about the bar we went to the other week? Paddy's, wasn't it." Shit, he was in a weird mood that night. Grinning at nothing then going all moody when I called him on that shit. I swear to God, that man PMSs more that my Rosie. He needs serious hormone therapy, or perhaps, just a good woman.

"Yep, that's the one. How does six suit you? Think you can get out the door by then?"

"I'll be there, Emmett." I can almost hear him rolling his eyes. God, I love goading him. But if he just got the stick out his ass a little more often, I wouldn't have to.

"Great. So long, Ed," I say, laughing as I hear him object to the shortening of his name again. He really is too easy sometimes.

~TMitE~

As it turns out, I'm late getting to the bar, and Edward is already there waiting for me. I see him as I enter, glancing at his watch and looking like he's swallowed a wasp. As much as I love winding him up, I do miss the old Edward. I still get moments of him every now and then. Moments when he relaxes and reveals the real him. Having said that, he's been a little better recently. I wonder what's caused the change? Probably nothing. Or perhaps he's getting laid. Nah, doubt it. I'm secure enough in my masculinity to admit he's one sexy guy with his tousled hair, tall, well-proportioned body, and good dress sense. And I know he works out because I often join him in the gym when he's not using that one he had put in at his office. The girls certainly seem to like what he's got going on, but he exudes this air of hostility toward women. He seems to wear it around him like a force field. I wish any girl who can get him to drop that shield the best of luck.

Ah, he's spotted me. Best get the drinks in. I stop at the bar and pick up two pints of Guinness and a couple whiskey chasers. When in an Irish bar, go Irish, I say.

"I can't get pissed. Some of us actually care about the quality of work they need to do in the morning." Fuck, he's in a good mood—not. But then he smiles. Is he winding me up? Holy jock straps, Batman, he must be in a good mood after all.

He picks up the whiskey chaser and knocks it back. I watch him closely. Something's different. "You either got laid, or you've made another million this week. Which is it?"

"Well, I have made a few good deals recently; it looks like the business trip the other week is going to pay off, and I've not got laid … this week … yet. But this good mood is all courtesy of being on the brink of nailing Caius Volturi and his cronies."

"You've got your evidence? The fucker really was stealing from you?" Edward talked to me a while ago about his suspicions concerning the highly recommended and extremely good on paper, but slimy as a slug with a cold VP that he'd taken on at the start of the year. He usually promotes from within, so I'd initially put his suspicions down to paranoia about someone coming in from outside. But as time has gone on, and he's told me more and more stories, I've come to question his judgement less and less.

"You bet. And by Thanksgiving, his sorry ass should be in jail."

"I'll drink to that," I offer and raise my glass. Edward clinks, and I take a big gulp. Then something else he said triggers in my mind. I know; I can be a little slow at times, but I get there in the end. Rosie says it's because too much blood is needed elsewhere, if you get my meaning.

"Hang on, back up a minute. You said you've not got laid this week. That implies you have gotten laid recently." I look at him through narrowed eyes. He's not denying it. This is big news. Edward has not shown any interest in another woman since Lisa. He's suddenly gone all sheepish and is staring at his pint.

I may come across as an insensitive oaf sometimes, but I know when to pry and when to keep quiet. This is too big to fuck up. If I push, he may close down. This calls for a delicate touch. Shit, where's Rosie when I need her?

"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask.

He looks up and shakes his head. "Not really. It's … complicated." He picks up his beer and takes another swig. I keep my fat mouth shut. If he wants to talk, he will. If he doesn't, hell, I'll just get him drunk and drag it out of him.

He looks like he's going to say more for a moment, but then seems to change his mind. "So, what did you summon me for? What's so urgent?"

Okay, change of subject. Another time, my old friend. But I'm pleased for you, even if you're not ready to talk to me about it yet.

"Rosalie interviewed someone from your place today, and she wants to offer her a job. But I said I'd check in with you first. If you don't want to lose them, I'm not going to go around poaching."

"Oh?" He raises an eyebrow. "I don't see how it'd be a big concern; people move on. If they're not happy, then it's for the best if they do. Unless it's one of the executives. Then I'd be interested."

"No, actually, they're right at the bottom of the ladder. But from what Rosie said, they may have potential." Like I could afford to poach one of his executives. We don't quite have the VP pulling power that CMH does. But we can dream, and dream we do.

"Oh, what's the name? We've had several new interns start recently, but I'd not heard any are unhappy. I'd be interested to know their reasons. It'd be good to know if we're doing anything wrong."

"That's another reason for me bringing it to you. Rosalie got the impression it's more than just a case of bad fit. She seems to think there may be some sort of harassment going on. Apparently, she was a little hazy on her exact reason for wanting to move. It might be worth looking into it further."

"Oh? Thanks for the heads up. I can assure you that if anyone is feeling harassed, or that they are not being treated fairly, I will take it very seriously. That is not something we tolerate at CMH. So, who is it? Did they say what department they work in?"

"I'm not sure on the department, but her name was Isabella Swan."

The pint that had been moving toward Edward's mouth stops dead, and his eyes flick to me. He slowly returns the glass to the table, and he curls his hand into a fist. "Let me get this straight. Isabella Swan interviewed today for a job with Rosalie?"

What the hell has gotten into him? He must know this girl. But she's just an intern. And he doesn't mix with his staff. How does he know her?

"Look, Edward, I'm sorry if this has upset you. If you don't want her to go, we won't make the offer, but if she's determined to leave, we aren't the only other company out there."

"She is not going anywhere," he says through a tight jaw. "I'll talk with her. This is all just a misunderstanding. Shit. I bet this is about the job on Newton's team. I told her I'd get it sorted. What is she thinking?" He's mumbling a little, almost like he's talking to himself. I have to say, I'm a little worried for the safety of this poor girl.

"Edward," I say sharply, bringing his focus back to me. "You need to calm down. She only interviewed with us. It's not the end of the world. How do you know her anyway?"

"She works in Volturi's department. She's the one who alerted me to him and his pal's activities. The one whose been helping me build the case against them. And you're right, she's good."

"If she's good enough to keep, she's good enough for others to want her too. You need to get this sorted, find out what's bugging her, and get it fixed. You don't need me to tell you to look after your good people."

"You're right, Emmett. I've let her down, and I need to put that right. She's obviously unhappy with the way things are going at CMH, so I need to make some changes. Thanks, Em, for letting me know. I owe you one."

"You certainly do. Rosalie is going to have my nuts when I tell her we aren't making the offer."

The fucker has the gall to laugh. It's not funny. I won't be getting any for a week after this. She is going to be so pissed.

~TMitE~

Rosalie is not happy.

When I gave her the news, she shouted, she swore, she even threw something. Luckily it was at the wall, but still. I'm just pleased most of the swearing was aimed at that fucker, Cullen. I sent him a text to be prepared the next time he sees her. He's going to be lucky to walk away with his balls intact. She then proceeded to sulk all Thursday and is still not talking to me, and it's now Friday at lunchtime.

But I have just received some good news that means Big E should be getting some action tonight. Or even this afternoon, if I play it right.

Edward called. It would appear he's had a change of heart. He contacted me to let me know we can now make the job offer to Isabella Swan. He didn't go into why he's done a sudden U-turn, just mumbled something about not holding her back and letting her fly. I'm not sure where he was getting that shit, perhaps he and Rosie have been reading the same self-help books, but if it means I get to make my Rosie happy, it's all good with me.

Now where is that little sex kitten? I need to help her sharpen her claws.


	12. Chapter 12

Sorry for the delay. Life has been busy and tiring and kicking my ass, but I'm finally getting back on an even keel. I have the chapter after this nearly ready to go. Plus I've been working on an EPOV outtake or two. I will probably publish these outside this story so look out for that. - Gosh I had a busy few days at the end of last week and over this weekend!

Thanks to Alice's White Rabbit for betaing in a super fast time. I have changed a couple bits since then so if you spot a mistake it is entirely mine.

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TMitE Chapter 12

I frown at the email I'm writing. The _empty_ email I'm _attempting_ to write. I've just deleted my fourth attempt. How do you tell a man like Mr. Cullen that you're leaving? The truth is I just don't know what to tell him. I've attempted short, sweet, and professional; a quick thanks for the opportunities, but it's time to move on. I've also tried the long gushing essay on how I'll miss him and wish things could be different. That one I knew I'd never send, but it felt good to get it down on paper, or screen, and out my system. I still know I need to send him something, but what? I crack my knuckles and go for attempt number five.

 _Dear Edward,_

Too familiar. I scrub out "Edward" and replace it with "Mr. Cullen." Too formal. Shit. I can't even get past the welcome. I end up scrubbing out the "Dear" and just writing "Edward." That sounds right. I think.

 _Edward,_

 _I'm leaving._

 _Thanks for everything,_

 _Bella_

Short and to the point. Too short. I need to give him some sort of explanation. I grumble in frustration and stand up, stretching my back before starting to grab the few personal possessions that litter my desk, thrusting them forcefully into my bag.

"So, you're really going?" asks Angela, appearing at the entrance to my cubicle. I've just taken down the picture of my mom I keep pinned up next to my monitor and packed up the spreadsheet mug my dad gave me for my birthday. The only other personal items I need to take are a stylish pen my dad bought for me as a graduation gift and a little soft wolf toy that Jake gave me that sits on my computer. I pick it up and smile at it before also slipping it into my bag.

"Yep," I reply. "I told HR this afternoon I won't be back after my two weeks' vacation. They weren't happy about it. They wanted to do things like exit interviews and talk with Victoria and James, but since they'd already been called upstairs for the big showdown, there wasn't much they could do."

I'd taken Edward's advice last week and put in for two weeks' vacation, starting this upcoming Thanksgiving week. Then, to my total shock, that afternoon, I got a call from Rosalie Hale, offering me a job. Having not heard from her for a few days, I was convinced I'd been unsuccessful. I didn't need to consider her offer for long. Following my conversation with Edward the previous evening, I knew my time with him was over. I don't think I could go on working here, knowing he is just upstairs. So close, yet so unattainable. So I jumped at the opportunity.

I will still be taking a week's vacation, though, before I start afresh. I need a little time to get my head together. So I'm off to see my dad, Charlie, in Forks, the small town where I grew up, and he had served as the chief of police since I can remember. Then I start with McCarty Construction, reporting to Rosalie Hale and working alongside Alice.

I think over the last time Edward and I were alone together. He'd seemed so angry when I'd first arrived. But then, after he'd taken me on his boardroom table, he'd held me tight and we'd talked. I remember how he'd asked me about my hopes and dreams, and I was nothing but honest. I also remember his final words. "I have to let you go. I have to let you fly." And so going I am.

Today, the project ends, and at the same time, my tenure at CMH comes to an end. Edward sent me a text about an hour ago to tell me Agent Whitlock, along with a couple other agents, had arrived, and that the embezzling three would soon be escorted from the premises. It wasn't long after I received Edward's text that Victoria and James disappeared into the elevator together, their heads close, talking in hushed voices. They had been summoned, but, unlike when I visited Mr. Cullen's office on the 27th floor all those weeks ago, those two will not be coming back.

It looks as though Edward is taking no chances with security during this time. From my desk, I can see a beefy-looking guy I don't recognize hanging about by the elevators. He's wearing the same uniform I'm used to seeing on Embry. People keep giving him suspicious looks, obviously anxious about why we suddenly have a security guard. I'm sure they'll find out soon enough via the rumor mill.

"Have you told him?" Angela asks, breaking me from my thoughts.

I shake my head. "Not yet. I was going to send him an email, but I'm not making much progress."

I'd thought a lot about telling him to his face. But I've not had the opportunity to be alone with him, and I was also a little scared that if I told him ahead of time, he'd find a way to stop me. Or worse, that he wouldn't try. That he'd just let me go without a second thought. No, this way is better.

"What do I tell him, Ang?" She just shrugs and draws me into a hug.

"Just be honest," she whispers in my ear, then sighs. "I'm going to miss you."

"You too, but I'll see you each week down at The Tavern at the very least. I need to keep up with

what's happening with you and Ben. Now that I no longer have a sex life again, I need to live vicariously through yours."

Ben and Angela's relationship has been going from strength to strength, but she's determined to take it slow. Despite going on numerous dates, they've still not gone all the way, but I know she has plans to change that soon.

She laughs, pulling back and looking me in the eye. "I was right to be worried, wasn't I? You did end up falling for him."

I give Angela a small nod. It's hard to deny as the sorrow I feel about leaving today threatens to spill over into tears. I know I'll miss CMH and lots of the people here, especially Angela, but this feeling runs deeper than that. I'm going to seriously miss him. For all my attempts to keep him at arm's length, he's still managed to get under my skin.

~TMitE~

Over the course of the next week, I realize just how much I'm missing him. On the surface, the week is good. I needed the break, and seeing my dad has been the best thing for me. But a part of me wishes I was back at CMH, staring into the depths of two verdant eyes as I'm made to scream his name time and time again. But as I watch Dad interact with his new girlfriend, Sue, I realize I also miss those other moments we shared. As Charlie jokes around with Sue, while filling the dishwasher, I'm reminded of the way Edward would tease me and make me blush, always with that sexy smirk on his face. As they snuggle up close to each other while watching the TV in the evening, I'm reminded of sitting curled up on Edward's lap as he held me close, running his hands through my hair and making me feel so safe and cared for. As I catch my dad staring at Sue as she moves around the room, doing nothing special, just tiding away bits and pieces, I remember how I'd sometimes catch Edward just watching me as I went through a spreadsheet or set up my computer.

"You really like her, don't you, Dad?" It's Black Friday, and we're having a lazy afternoon, recovering from hitting the shops since the ass crack of dawn this morning. Dad and I are sitting on the couch watching trashy, reality TV while Sue left about an hour ago, claiming she needed to sort some things out at her own house. I suspect she just wanted to give me and Charlie some alone time.

"I do, Bella. I think she's the one." He looks at me suddenly. "Not that it takes away from the love I felt for your mother. You understand that don't you, Bells? I'll always love your mother, and I'll always miss her. But I love Sue too." He sighs, running his hand over his face. "It's hard to explain. How you can love two people so much. In a lot of ways, the love I feel for Sue is different than the love I felt … feel, for Renee. I suppose I'm different. I'm older, hopefully wiser." He smiles at me, his mustache wiggling, and I nudge him in the ribs with my elbow. "I've been through things. But in other ways, in the intensity, in the depth of feeling, in the way I know it's going to last forever, it's the same."

I nod.

"You didn't mind me inviting her for Thanksgiving, did you? You've seemed a little sad this past week?"

"Of course not, Dad. She's important to you, which makes her important to me. I'm just glad you're happy. Besides, I like her."

"I like her too."

"I can tell," I tease. "So when are you going to ask her to move in?" It hasn't escaped my notice that Sue has been sleeping here all through the holiday, but he still talks about her visiting. I suspect that when I'm not here, she sleeps over more often than not.

"I thought I'd make it official after I got the green light from you," he says, smiling. "I might even ask her to tie the knot."

I look at my dad, who is looking straight forward at the TV. There is a rosiness to his cheeks, showing his blush. I realize Dad is nervous about broaching this with me.

"As long as I don't have to wear a hideous pink gown with ruffles, then I say pop the question."

Dad chuckles. "Duly noted. No pink. No ruffles. I couldn't see Leah wearing pink anyway." Leah is one of Sue's two children. Unfortunately, neither her, nor Sue's son Seth, could make it home for this holiday, but Dad has already dropped big hints about us all spending Christmas together.

"Or Seth," I say, giggling. And then we are both laughing. It feels good.

As we sober up, I catch my dad looking at me out the corner of his eye. "It's good to see you smile. You've not been doing enough of that this week. Tell me to back off if you want. God, knows you're a grown woman who can handle her own affairs, but I'm here if you want to talk. Or you could talk to Sue, you know, if it's women's things." I glance sideways, and true to form, my dad is blushing again.

"I kind of split up with a guy I was seeing," I confess.

"Hmmm," growls Charlie. "Is this another man I need to have in my sights? I'm still gunning for that Alex. Did I tell you I think he's avoiding me? His parents say he's not been visiting much. That he's too busy in his new job. I think he's just scared."

"I don't blame him," I retort. "Dad, please, don't do anything. I'm over it. I really am." And I realize I'm speaking the truth. For once, thinking about Alex hasn't got my blood boiling. I no longer feel the pain and anguish I used to feel when thinking about his humiliation of me. In fact, I realize I feel very little toward him.

"Hmm," growls Charlie once again. "So tell me about this new man who's made my little girl sad."

"It's nothing really, Dad. It just wasn't meant to be, so I moved on."

"Moved on?" says Charlie, putting his arm around my shoulder and drawing me into his side. "Your choice?" I nod against his arm. I can feel tears prickling my eyes and I blink to clear then. "Did he hurt you? Cheat on you? Act like a jerk?" I shake my head.

"No, nothing like that. In fact he was nothing but truthful with me, And kind, thoughtful, supportive, passionate," I blush as I recount Edwards better qualities. "The timing was just all wrong. He wasn't ready. I wasn't ready."

"But it doesn't stop you having feelings, does it?" I nod once again, and against my will, a couple tears escape, making their way slowly down my cheek. "Bells, take some advice from an old man?"

"Okay," I agree in a shaky voice. It's not often my dad offers advice, but I've learned to listen when he does. "If this relationship really wasn't meant to be, then fine, move on. But if there is any chance he could be the one. The one who could make you happy, the one who could care for you, the one who would be there for you and protect you no matter what, the one who would try their darndest to never let you down, then don't let him slip through your fingers."

I ponder Charlie's words as we both quietly slip off into our own thoughts. Could Edward ever be the one? He certainly looked out for me, and he made me happy. But while I considered the possibility of Edward being the one for me, my treacherous thoughts are quick to point out that I wasn't the one for him. I've been gone a week now, and I've not heard from him once. He would have got my email, he would know I wasn't coming back, but he's not once tried to phone me or even text me. He's made no attempt to get me back. To me, that says a lot. What is the point in fighting for him if he wasn't willing for fight for me?

~TMitE~

I look across the street at the building that will be my new place of work. It is as different from the CMH building as you can get. Instead of the towering rectangular steel and glass construction reaching to the heavens, this building appears to be only about two or three stories high, made of red bricks, with large, semicircular, ornamental windows breaking up the upper level of the industrial looking, warehouse façade. It's situated a little out of town, away from the main business center, and most of the buildings surrounding it look utilitarian. With this building, though, someone has made an effort to make it more inviting, and they've done a good job. The surrounding area has been paved, and there's a lovely seating area, which sweeps around the side of the structure, with benches flanked by raised planted containers and young trees. It seems like it will be a pleasant place to stop and eat lunch when the weather is nicer.

The weather today sums up my mood. The rain clouds from last night are being driven off, allowing a tentative sun to peek through, bringing to mind the bright rays of optimism piercing my stormy feelings of apprehension about the unknown, about moving on. I take the change in the weather as a good sign.

Taking a deep breath, I move toward the door, and the next stage of my life, just as I feel an arm slip through mine.

"Welcome to McCarty's." Alice offers me a smile that I return nervously as she maneuvers me toward the door. "We're going to have fun working together," she adds, and I appreciate her positive outlook.

As I step through the door, the sight in front of me makes me draw a breath. I was right. This place is certainly different than CMH. Gone are the cubicles dividing up the space into regular rectangular workspaces, everyone's area marked out and contained. Instead, I'm confronted by a large open plan workspace that appears to take up most of the old warehouse building. Desks seem to be placed haphazardly throughout the space, at varying angles to each other; other areas are set up with sofas or high tables designed to be leaned upon. Throughout it all, I see greenery. Hanging plants drape down the side of structures, potted plants are scattered between the desks and chairs, and there even seem to be areas that are set aside as little gardens.

However, this is not what makes me stop in my tracks. Rising from the center of the open space is a large, white, sweeping curved construction that flattens out to create a small second floor under the towering, vaulted roof. On this plinth, there is a glass-encased meeting room, set out with a large table, chairs, and the obligatory presentation screen at the end. I peer to the side and see the underneath of this architectural wonder is equipped with a coffee station and seating area.

All in all, this is the most modern and forward-thinking workspace I have ever seen. This is going to take some getting used to.

"Great, isn't it," says a grinning Alice from my side.

"It's certainly different," I agree.

Just then, we're greeted by a girl, who looks to be no older than me and Alice, dressed in a loose, flowery top, standing behind what must be a reception desk.

"Hi, Alice. And you must be Bella. I'll just let Rosalie know you're here, then I'll get you set up with a temporary ID. Later today, you'll need to stop by IT to get your photo taken so they can make you a permanent one, but there's plenty of time for that." As she talks quickly, she picks up her phone and presses a button.

"Bella Swan's arrived … Yes. She's with Alice if you want me to send them over." She nods, supposedly to Rosalie on the other end of the line, even though she can't see her.

As she hangs up, she hands me an electronic card declaring me a visitor. I clip it to my jacket. "Rosalie says to go on over."

"Thanks, Bree," says Alice. "Don't worry. I'll take good care of you, Bella."

Alice once again links arms and leads me through the jungle of desks, tables, and people. As we go, she points out various areas, telling me the teams that work there, as well as introducing me to several people. Everyone we meet is friendly, and I start out trying to take it all in, but I have to confess my head is soon swimming. I'm not sure if it was Bret's team we passed third or if he was the ginger guy with the thick black-rimmed glasses I shook hands with by the second water cooler.

"Don't worry," says Alice, glancing at me and obviously taking in my shell-shocked expression. "It'll all fall into place." She turns me slightly and nods her head toward an area containing about six desks, all facing each other in a jumbled circle. "And this is us," she says quietly before raising her voice and addressing the four others I see sitting there working. "Guys, this is Bella. Bella, the team." She waves her arm to take in the general area before pointing to individual people. "At the far end, we have Alistair and Garrett. I believe you've met previously." Two young-looking men at the two farthest desks raise their hands to me, and I do indeed recognize them, having met them a couple times at The Tavern.

"And next to them is Charlotte, and, of course, you know Rosalie." As she speaks, Rosalie comes around her desk to shake my hand.

"Welcome, Bella," she says, smiling broadly.

The rest of the day passes in a blur of new faces, new tasks, and new log-ins. One encounter sticks in my mind. Meeting the CEO, Emmett McCarty.

Alice had been taking me through the computer systems I'll be using when a big bear of a man, easily as tall as Mr. Cullen but much broader across the shoulders, came up behind Rosalie. As he quietly and silently approached her, he looked at me over her shoulder and put his finger to his lips in a request for my silence. Rosalie was standing behind Alistair, completely engrossed in something he was showing her on his computer. As I continued to watch, intrigued, I saw him grab her around her middle, lifting her clear off the floor and swinging her round. My eyes widened as she let out a loud screech and proceeded to yell at her assailant. "Put me down, you big oaf. How many times do I have to tell you a simple hello will suffice as a greeting?"

"But where's the fun in that," he answered in a teasing voice, gently lowering her feet to the floor but keeping his arms wrapped around her. "Besides, I know you love it." I watched her face, and although her words were stern, I saw a large smile gracing her features. It was almost as wide as the one plastered across the newcomer's face. His grin, however, was flanked by two of the cutest dimples I have ever seen on a man. They gave him a look of someone who likes to have fun and loves to tease.

"Stop it, Emmett," said Rosalie, gently hitting his arm still wrapped around her waist. "You'll scare the new girl."

The giant looked up and once again caught my eye. He instantly dropped Rosalie and was next to me and Alice in a couple strides. He sat himself down on the edge of my desk and shook my hand.

"So, you're Bella Swan. Welcome to the company. It's nice to finally put a face to the name. People have been saying good things about you."

By people, I assumed he meant Rosalie and Alice. I blushed at the compliment.

"Oh … Look at that, Rosie, she's a blusher." My color deepened. "I'm going to have so much fun with that." My embarrassment was softened by the teasing wink he gave me.

"Don't worry, Bella," called Rosalie from across our circle. "I'll keep him in check."

Emmett turned to Alice. "Looks like you're no longer the new girl. Guess I'm going to have to come up with a new nickname for you. But don't you worry. I've got the perfect one all ready to go. I think it's going to be a sticker."

He turned back to me. "It was good to meet you, Bella. We'll touch base later in the week and see how you're settling in; until then, good luck." He got up and started to walk away before turning back to us. "I think drinks are in order this Friday to celebrate our new addition. What do you say to meeting up at that pub you like? The Tavern, isn't it, Pixie? Drinks are on me."

And with that, he strolled off back to his office, leaving Alice fuming. Obviously not happy with her new moniker.

~TMitE~

Friday came around quickly. As promised, I'd met with Emmett on Wednesday, and I was pleased to see he could be professional when needed. He took me through the company's history as an architectural, engineering, and construction firm. He'd started up the company a few years back as a one-stop shop that can take a new build from design to operation, all under one roof. On his wall are pictures of some new buildings I recognize from around the city, one or two that are rapidly becoming modern landmarks. When I asked about them, Emmett told me he'd designed them, and the firm had built them. I have to say I was impressed.

Rosalie's team, the team I'm now part of, is heading up a new venture: retro-fitting older buildings. We work with clients to turn around buildings to their individual needs, bringing in the engineers and architects if structural work is needed, and moving on to decorate and furnish the newly renovated space to their requirements. This is where Alice's design flair comes into its own. I visited one of our works in progress with her on the Thursday morning. She pointed out the work that had already been done—knocking down several walls, adding a couple others. What was left, though, was still a bare shell. She then pulled out her sketch pad and showed me her drawings for how it is going to look when finished. If she pulls it off, the space is going to look phenomenal. I was amazed at how she could look at this blank canvas and see the finished article.

My personal role is more project management. Liaising with the clients, coordinating the work of the various construction teams, electricians, plumbers, and decorators, as well as insuring the project comes in on time and within budget. It is a big role, and certainly a step up from what I was doing at CMH, but I'm confident I'm up to the task and excited to get stuck in to it.

So, it's with a happy heart and an optimistic outlook that I join the rest of the team, along with Emmett and a couple others who got wind of the boss paying, at The Tavern.

As soon as I walk through the door, I'm accosted by Angela. She instantly pulls me to one side to fill me in on what's been happening in my old department since the departure of Caius, James, and Victoria. It would appear that the three were swiftly arrested, but that rumor has it they are now out on bail, awaiting trial. It's hard to tell how much of what she tell me is gossip and supposition, and how much is hard fact. In the one hand she's heard that all their assets have been frozen and they are now living in hostels, while counter gossip holds that they are living the high life, still being paid, as they can't be officially sacked until they are proven guilty in a court of law.

It would appear the rumor mill is also trying to find a way to link my departure to theirs—the two having happened on the same day. She's already had to set several people straight about me being involved in any illegal activity. She promises me she's not told anyone of my involvement in bringing them to justice and is letting everyone know the timing of my move is just a coincidence.

After our short gossip session, we both join the McCarty gathering toward the back in the bar. Emmett is obviously feeling generous, and it's not long until I'm feeling a little lightheaded due to the number of drinks he's been buying. We've all been having a great time. Rosalie regales us with tales of Emmett making a fool of himself, and it's great to have two bosses who are so relaxed.

We'd been there for about two hours, and I'd just lost Angela. She'd supposedly only gone to the bar to pick up some more drinks, but that was at least twenty minutes ago. I glance round and see her talking with Ben as he makes up drink orders, and I figure she won't be back anytime soon. As I sweep the room my gaze falls on a dark haired lady sitting at a table not too far from Angela. She has large bangs, that cover most of her face, and she's too far away to make out clearly, but she seems to be watching me intently and something about her seems familiar. As I focus on her she quickly looks away, turning her back on me. I wonder what she was looking at and why, but I'm distracted by a loud ping from Emmett's pocket.

I glace his way as he retrieves his phone and opens it up to read the incoming text. As he does, a perplexed look falls over his face.

"What is it?" asks Rosalie from his other side, also catching his worried look.

"Just Eddie. He wants to meet up," he says, turning to her.

"Tough. You're out with us. He'll have to wait."

This is obviously a private discussion about someone I don't know, so I glace back around to see if the strange woman is still watch me, but she seems to have moved. I shake away the feeling of unease and look around the circle with the hope of joining in with someone's conversation, but everyone seems to be talking quietly in twos or threes. I contemplate moving up a seat to sit next to Alistair, but he's deep in conversation with Garrett, and the way they are looking at each other, I really don't want to intrude. The dialogue next to me continues, and I can't help overhearing as Emmett doesn't really know the meaning of an indoor voice.

"I don't know, Rosie. He seemed really down when I saw him last weekend. If he's ready to talk, I don't want to put him off and have him clam up again." As Emmett talks, I see out of the corner of my eye him tapping away on his phone.

Rosalie sighs as I pretend not to be listening to their conversation. "Okay, but why don't you get him to meet you here? I don't get to see enough of him now. I'd like to say hi too."

"That's what I've just suggested to him. I doubt he'll go for it. You know how he feels about this place."

Emmett's phone pings again, and he glances down. "Well, fuck me, he's coming over!"

"Maybe that imaginary girlfriend you think he has, has finally pulled the stick out of his ass."

"I tell you, Rosie, something is going on."

"Well, I hope you're right. No matter how much I get on his ass about him being a tedious workaholic, he deserves a bit of happiness to come his way."

Just then, I'm drawn into a conversation by Alice. We've made plans for this weekend to finally get the gown I'm going to wear to the gala. She fills me in on the kind of dress she thinks will be best and where we're likely to find it. She lists a lot of shops, and I have to admit, I'm a little worried this is going to take the whole weekend.

My attention is drawn back to Emmett a short while later as he abruptly stands up. "Looks like my boy's here. Excuse me, folks, I'll be at the bar for a few moments. The tab is still open, so feel free to order another round, but don't go crazy. I'm looking at you, Garrett."

Garrett displays a surprised, innocent face, causing Emmett, and everyone else, to laugh, and I watch my new boss as he strolls off to the bar. And then the rest of the world ceases to exist. There standing at the bar, watching Emmett approach, is Edward. My Edward. Mr. Cullen.

As I watch, his eyes move past Emmett and land on me. He looks good. As always. But there is something in his eyes, a sadness perhaps. I realize he also looks tired and perhaps a little thinner, and I worry for a brief moment if he's been eating properly. I'd often take food up with me to our meetings, knowing he rarely stopped working for lunch and often got home too late for a proper meal. He particularly loved it when I brought him donuts.

He continues to watch me until I can't take it any more and look down. Is this the friend Emmett was talking about? The one who's been down? The one with the imaginary girlfriend? I don't know what to do. Do I just carry on like he's not here? Like my heart isn't beating 100 beats a second, and I don't have a sudden urge to cry. Should I go speak to him? Ask him how he's doing and feel my heart break as he tells me he's doing fine, or worse still, treats me like he hardly knows me? I could just leave. Run away like I did two weeks ago. Move on and never look back.

"Are you okay, Bella? You look really pale," asks Alice from across the table.

"I'm suddenly not feeling very well. I think I'm going to visit the bathroom." I quickly get up and hurry to the back corner of the bar, not looking once in _that_ direction, his direction. My legs feel wobbly, and I wonder how they are managing to still hold me up. In my haste to get away I knock shoulders with someone. I glance up briefly, through eyes that threaten to burst with tears at any moment, to take in the short dark haired woman who'd been watching me earlier. "Look where you're going," she hisses at me, not even turning to look in my direction before she quickly saunters off through the crowd. I don't have time to dwell on her rudeness, or the sense of familiarity I got from her, as I hurry to the short corridor that leads to the bathrooms.

For a moment, I eye up the fire escape at the end of the corridor. It would be an easy way out. But I stop short of doing it. Everyone would worry if I just disappeared. Besides, knowing my luck, it will be linked to the alarm system, and the whole building would end up evacuated.

Instead, I take my time. Splashing water on my face, getting my heartbeat back under control. All the time questioning how he knows Emmett. I start to worry about how my move to McCarty's came about. Did he have a part in it? The bathroom mirror offers no answers to my questions, but I know who might. Resolved to speak to Rosalie and find out how she and Emmett know Edward and exactly what part he had to play in me landing this job, I muster the courage to return to the bar. I'm still not sure how I'm going to manage seeing him again, but I can't hide out here all night.

I stand up tall, take a deep breath, and push open the door. "Fuck me," I exclaim, instantly letting the door go again. It slams shut with a bang, nearly hitting me on the nose as it does. I take a few steadying breaths then reach out and slowly open it again. I feel my teeth dig into my bottom lip as I slowly look up. Taking in the polished work shoes, the designer suit pants, the well-pressed shirt with stylish tie, all the way up to the chiseled jaw, bearing just the right amount of stubble, the sexy, amused smirk, which despite my distress, makes me want to jump him, and then the eyes. Those deep green orbs that draw me in and express so much. Right now, they are crinkled with the same amusement I saw in his smile, but there is also a hesitancy there, and I realize he may be as nervous to see me as I am to see him.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

"You surprised me," I say quietly, taking in the tall figure of Edward, waiting for me just outside the bathroom door.

"I realize that." His smile grows a little wider, then fades almost as quickly. "Come with me," he says, grabbing my hand and pushing open the fire escape. Well, I guess it's not alarmed, after all.

As soon as we are outside, he has me pushed up against the wall, his lips on mine. The smell of his aftershave, mixed with a scent that is all him, engulfs me, taking over my senses. He has one hand at my waist, holding me firm against him, the other is buried in my hair. And it feels so right. I've missed him so much. I've missed this so much. For a moment, I just surrender myself to it.

I'm not sure how long he holds me there, pinned up against that wall. Time seems to lose all meaning. What I do know is there are tiny little nagging voices in the back of my head telling me to stop, that this isn't what I want or need. But they are currently being drowned out by the feelings and emotions burning me up from the inside. And perhaps the alcohol I've consumed is helping keep them muffled.

Eventually the nagging voices get louder. I break the kiss and push his body away from mine. He's still close. Too close. I'm struggling to think straight, the alcohol and my lust for him clouding my mind.

"Bella," he whispers, his voice sounding like a plea. "I know we shouldn't be doing this. Not here. Not like this. But I've missed you so much. Please. Let me see you again. I need to see you again." His hands are now positioned on the wall, either side of my head, his face still barely inches from mine. He's still too close. "Let me take you to lunch. Next week. I'll pick you up in my car. We can talk."

"You want to take me out to lunch? Like in public?" This is new. Perhaps he's ready to take our relationship public, ready for something more than just sex.

He gives a sheepish smile and a small shrug. "I suppose so," he says.

I suddenly realize he looks and sounds nervous. My confident, always so sure of himself, Mr. Cullen is nervous. He doesn't know what I'm going to say. He doesn't know if I want this too.

I reach up and cup his cheek, staring deep into his eyes. "I'd really like that, Edward."

"Fuck!" he suddenly exclaims, hitting the wall next to my head and moving away from me, breaking our eye contact. I don't know what's wrong and my alcohol-slowed brain is struggling to keep up. Then he's back. His eyes boring into mine, his hand stroking my cheek.

"I can't do Monday, but I need to see you soon. Please, tell me you're free on Tuesday."

I shake my head. I'm due at the hospital on Tuesday. I really need to go, having not been last week at all. Besides, Esme is giving me back what I hope is the final draft of my speech. With the gala only the weekend after, I can't pass up this opportunity to talk through it with her.

"I'm busy Tuesday," I mumble. He looks disappointed so I quickly add, "But I can do Wednesday."

He nods briefly. "Wednesday then."

Then his lips are on me again, his body pressed up against mine. It feels so right, and if he wants to talk, that can only be a good thing, right?

My body is on the verge of totally surrendering to him when he once again pulls back.

He smirks down at me. "I have to go or else I'm going to take you out here in this filthy alleyway." I look around, for the first time taking in the bins and garbage bags stacked outside The Tavern's back door, the cigarette stubs and broken bottles, and that background smell of urine you often find in places like this. My nose scrunches up. He leans forward and kisses the creases that have formed at the bridge of my nose, making me smile.

He takes me by the hand and leads me back through the fire exit. We're just about to re-enter the bar area when he pulls me back into his arms. The kiss is brief, but full of passion, and we're both breathing hard when we break apart.

"Wednesday?" he confirms, and I nod. His smile lights up his face, and I see a glimpse of that younger Edward from the pictures in Esme and Carlisle's house. I want more of that man. But before I can say or do anything he turns me abruptly and points me in the direction of my friends. "Go. Before I do something we'll both regret," he says and sends me on my way with a light pat to my ass that makes me exclaim and turn to give him a dirty look. Seeing him laugh at my indignant expression is enough for me to forgive him.

I somehow manage to make it back to the table without falling over or looking back again. However, when I do regain my seat, I can't resist looking for him. I look around and see him approaching Emmett, who is still seated at the bar, apparently waiting for Edward to return. As I watch, he looks my way, and there's the sexy smirk I love so much.

"Where were you?" I break our connection as Angela approaches.

"I was just visiting the restroom. How's it going with Ben?" I ask, trying to deflect her.

It works, and a shit eating grin erupts across her face. "He gets off in about five minutes, and I'm going back to his house with him." She wiggles her eyebrows in a suggestive way.

My eyes open wide. So, tonight's the night.

"He lives not too far from you. If you want to go now, we can give you a ride."

I consider the offer. It may be awkward riding home with those two love birds, but the alternative is sitting here with Edward at the bar. Having him so close yet so far. I need to get home so I can think over all that has happened tonight. I opt for the lesser of the two evils—a ride with Ben and Ang.

"Let's go," I say, grabbing my coat. I say a quick goodbye to Alice and the rest of the team and head toward the door, being careful to avoid Emmett and Edward at the bar.

~TMITE~

"Tell me straight. What did you think?"

I've just finished reading to Ms. Palmer, and now I'm sitting, coffee in hand, across from Esme. Between us is a copy of my speech that I sent to Esme last week. I can see red marks on it. That can't be good, can it? I thought I'd incorporated all the changes she'd suggested from the earlier draft, and I was actually really pleased with it.

I nervously glance around the hospital canteen, taking in the small number of other patrons. I spot at flash of red hair making for the exit. It brings my mind back to the red ink on the document sitting in front of Esme, and I focus back on her, not allowing myself to be distracted.

She smiles at me, reassuringly. "It's perfect. You, my dear, are going to knock their socks off."

"Then why all the corrections?" I tentatively pick up the sheets of paper.

"They are just prompts. You know how we talked about you pausing in certain points, looking at different key members of the audience, making sure you take in the whole room? Well, I've just added the reminders."

"Thanks, Esme. I don't know how I would have done this without you."

"Nonsense." She waves off my comments with a flick of her hand.

"I've got something to show you," I say, smiling as I hand over my phone, opened to a picture Alice took for me this weekend during our shopping trip.

"My God, Bella, you look beautiful. Absolutely stunning. This is the perfect dress. Your friend really does have a talent."

The dress is in midnight blue, a color, my treacherous mind quickly reminds me, Mr. Cullen particularly liked me in. It is light and floats down to the floor below a fitted bodice that is pulled in at the waist by a band of silver flowers. It is mainly off the shoulder but has a swiping piece of material that rises over my left shoulder, giving me the look of a Greek goddess. Its elegance makes me feel like a million dollars, even in the heels Alice is insisting I wear.

~TMitE~

I was apprehensive waiting for Wednesday and my lunch date with Edward. Was this an official date? Could we now be classed as dating? We would be seen together in public. Did this mean he wanted a proper relationship, not some hidden, illicit affair? I didn't want to, but I found myself getting my hopes up. He wanted to talk. That could only be a good thing, couldn't it? It was obvious from the way he reacted at The Tavern that he was still attracted to me. Perhaps he'd missed me too. And not just for the sex.

I hadn't told anyone I was going. I didn't want to have to face their questions. I knew Angela would be worried, and I didn't want that. I decided I'd find out what he wanted first then take things from there. I've been trying to talk to Rosalie all week to find out how she and Emmett know him, and if Edward had anything to do with me landing this job, but we've both been really busy, and I've not been able to get her alone.

As I leave the building, I look around. The street is practically deserted, parking for the buildings being at the rear. A sedan with blacked out windows waits a little down the street, but it's been there all week, so I assume it belongs to one of the business owners.

I spot Edward instantly. He is leaning against the only other car in the street, a long limousine, also with blacked out windows. He is, of course, talking on his ever-present cell phone. As I spot him, he also spots me. I see him looking me up and down. McCarty's is a more casual work place, but I've made an effort today. I'm wearing a white dress that stops a few inches above my knee. The top section is accented with blue lines. It is modestly cut with a rounded neckline but it's fitted and shows off my figure. It's getting a little colder now so I've slipped on my coat, but I've not done it up yet, allowing it to fall open at the front.

"I have to go now, Bernard," says Edward as I approach. "Something important has just come up." He chuckles, then his phone is sliding into his pocket, and I'm greeted by that smile. "God, you look good enough to eat," he says as he pushes off the car and takes a step toward me. He reaches forward as if he is going to take me into his arms, and I see him lick his lips while glancing at mine. It's a sure sign he wants to kiss me. And I want to kiss him too. So much. But he seems to decide against it and, instead, just leans forward and pecks me on the cheek like we are old friends meeting after an absence.

He puts his hand against the small of my back and ushers me toward the car as he opens the door. Before I know it, I'm seated inside the plush interior. It's huge. There are seats running up both sides and across the back. I opt to sit opposite the door I entered through and turn to watch Edward enter behind me.

Suddenly, the space feels a lot smaller as he takes his place next to me. Close next to me. So close he's touching. I feel my breath getting short as I take in his scent and feel his body heat. My body responds to him as it always does: my nipples harden, my thighs rub together, and I start to feel heated and flushed. But we have to talk. I can't let these feelings get the better of me.

There is a slight judder as the car starts to move, then his lips are on mine. His hands feel as if they are everywhere. I instinctively respond before a small part of my brain makes me come to my senses. My hands that had been grabbing his shirt, pulling him toward me, now push him back, push him away. We can't just have sex. We need to talk. I can't go back to how it was. If we do, I know I'll be hurt. I want more. I want more with him.

"Please, Edward," I say as his lips leave mine. He's still close. I can feel his breath, and part of me wants to just pull him forward. "I thought we were going to lunch. I thought you wanted to talk."

"We can talk later," he says, nuzzling my neck, and the feeling is sensational. "Right now, I need you. I've missed you so much, Bella. I can't get enough of you. I'll never get enough of you."

A little reluctantly, I push on his chest again, and he draws back, looking confused. "Can we go to lunch first," I say. "This isn't why I'm here. This isn't what I want."

He looks at me for a few moments, and I'm struggling to read what is going on in his eyes. There is confusion but also a sadness and, perhaps, resignation.

"Your body is telling me something different, Bella. Besides, I brought lunch." He indicates a bag on the seat at the back. "I wanted to let you know that just because you no longer work for me, it doesn't mean we can't make this work. Nothing needs to change. I thought it would be best to talk in private."

And there is the crux of the problem. He doesn't want our relationship to change, and I do.

"In private," I repeat in a quiet voice. He has summed up the crux of my problem. He still wants us to be kept a secret. He is not interested in a proper relationship. He still just wants sex. How could I have been such an idiot?

"Stop the car," I yell, loud and clear, and I'm pleased to feel the car start to slow. I figure we've not gone far. It won't take me long to get back to the office.

"I can't do this anymore, Edward. I can't be your dirty little secret. I deserve more."

I'm cross and I let it show. But more than that. I'm heartbroken. I foolishly allowed myself to believe that this lunch, him asking to see me in public, meant more than it did. After hearing Emmett talk, I was under some naïve illusion our relationship could be more than just sex. I was clearly mistaken. I won't be making that mistake again.

As the car draws to a stop, I reach for the door. But I feel his hand close around mine, preventing my departure. His hold isn't strong, but it's enough to cause me to pause.

"Bella, please, stop. Listen to me." I don't want to look at him, to see those eyes that have come to mean more to me than they ever should. I don't want to feel the pain that knowing this is the last time I'll look into their depths will cause. But I need to see. I need to know.

I look up at his confused, worried expression. I'm close to tears—tears of anger, tears of frustration, and tears of loss. But I blink them back. I don't want to cry in front of him. I need to be strong.

"Why, Edward? So you can seduce me? So you can make me yours in every way but the way I want? I want everything, but I can't have it. Not with you. I understand you were never looking for a relationship, and you don't want one now, but I do." I tear my eyes away from him, no longer able to bear the confusion and anguish I see in their depths. I believe he may have feelings for me, but if he's not willing to show them, or to move past his loss, then I need to move on. "Goodbye, Edward. Thank you for everything." I reach out and stroke his cheek. Then I push open the door and leave.

Once I exit the car, I don't look back. I don't hear the door shut or the car drive off, so I assume he's watching me. Once again. How many times does he have to let me walk away without a fight before I realize I don't mean that much to him?

I manage to hold it together until I round the corner. And then I'm running. Running from him, from the pain, from the humiliation. I'm not sure where I'm headed; I know I'm going vaguely in the direction of McCarty's, but I don't know the area well enough to be sure I'm entirely on course. As I run, tears steam down my face, blurring my vision and making it hard to see.

How could I be so stupid as to let myself believe in the fairy tales? This is real life, not some romantic fiction of Ms. Palmers where the prince sweeps down on his white charger in the last chapter to save the damsel and make all her dreams come true.

I round a corner and collide with someone or something. I'd been looking down, determined not to trip over a loose stone—the last thing I needed was a visit to casualty on top of everything else today. I recoil from my collision, and I feel hands reach out and wrap around my forearms, preventing me from landing on my ass.

My vision is still obscured by my tears, but a familiar voice alerts me to my savior's identity.

"Whoa there, Bella." And through my tears, I see her peering at my face. "Are you okay?" She shakes her head. "Silly question. Of course, you're not okay. Look at you."

She looks around before putting her arm around me and guiding me down the road. "Come with me," she coaxes, and I allow her to lead me around the corner to a small café as I hastily try to wipe my eyes and gain control over my emotions.

There is nothing posh about the café we enter. It seems to cater mainly to warehouse and construction workers. I briefly wonder if we're the only female customers as Rosalie maneuvers me to a booth near the back and quickly orders us some coffee. She is seated opposite me and is studying me intently.

"He did this, didn't he?"

He who? What does she know? Has Edward talked to her?

"Pardon?" I splutter.

"Edward," she clarifies. Shit, what does she know? She looks away, a cross expression on her face. "I knew something was going on when he followed you to the bathroom on Friday. Well, it didn't really take a genius to put two and two together."

It's only the start of my second week working for this woman and here I am an emotional wreck, and to top it off, she now thinks I'm the sort of person who sleeps with their boss. With a good friend of hers no less. Rosalie has been great to work for—patient and supportive. But I've also seen she can be fierce and ruthless. She's not the sort of woman I'd want to get on the wrong side of.

I'm also horrified she noticed Edward following me at The Tavern. How many others noticed?

She must see the worried look on my face. "Don't worry," she reassures me. "No one else noticed. Even my dear hubby was blissfully unaware."

"I take it that it's over?" she asks gently, the kindness in her voice touches me, and all I can do is nod as fresh tears fall.

Rosalie hands me a tissue.

"I'm going to kick his ass," she continues. "You are the best thing that's happened to him in ages, and I can't believe he's finished it. That he's letting you go."

I feel I need to correct her. Yes, he is letting me go, but I'm the one who ended it. I'm the one who let themselves hope it was more than it was. "Please, Rosalie, don't say anything to him. I'm the one who ended it," I say. "In the end, we both wanted different things."

"Then he's a fool," she replies.

My mind then takes in something else she said. "What did you mean when you said I'm the best thing to have happened to him in ages?"

Rosalie looks at me closely, as if deciding what, or how much, to say. "You've been good for him." She pauses. "He's been different recently. Happier. Emmett and I both noticed it."

I wonder if his change in temperament is down to me, and if our break up, if you can call it that, will set him back. I hope not. Despite it all, I want him to be happy. Even if it's not with me. Even if the idea of him with anyone else makes my blood run cold.

Rosalie looks at me closely as I sip my lukewarm coffee and get myself composed.

"I have one thing I need to ask, and I hope you don't mind me asking," I tell Rosalie.

"Ask away," she offers.

"Did he have anything to do with my appointment on your team? Did he tell you to hire me?"

"Is that what you think? That Edward clicks his fingers and I say, 'yes, sir'?" She looks a little offended, and I'm starting to regret bringing it up. "You got this job totally on your own merit, Bella. If anything, he wanted to stop you leaving CMH. But don't ever let yourself think you aren't good enough."

"Thank you, Rosalie. That means a lot to know."

She smiles reassuringly then seems to come to a decision.

"Do you think you're ready to come back to the office or do you want to take the afternoon off to wallow in self-pity?" she asks with a half-smile. "If it makes you feel any better, I'd go for option two. If you do select that option, I could send Alice round with ice cream and wine."

I laugh briefly at her smiling face and her attempt to cheer me up. "I think I can handle work. I've never been one for too much wallowing."

"Good for you," she replies. "We'll get through the boring work stuff, but then I think a girly night is in order. Me, you, and Alice. And who was that friend of yours from the pub, Anita? Agnes?"

"Angela," I clarify.

"Yep, her. I think you should invite her too. We'll watch trashy romantic comedies on Netflix, swoon over the leading men, and get drunk on prosecco. I'll even make sure the boss makes allowances for our hangovers tomorrow."

"Sounds like a plan," I say as she leads me out of the café and back to McCarty's.

* * *

A/N So, I got it out on time. Writing is happening. Still a little hand to mouth, so nothing in the bank to fall back on, so pray for no emergencies.

I know some of you have found it, but for those who haven't, I have started an EPOV sister story - **The Girl with the Sugar Lips**. The first chapter is up - covering when Edward first spotted Bella. I've been working on the next chapter, that will cover their 'special' time in elevator three. I hope you check it out and like it. I've not yet decided if it will cover the whole story, or just do the highlights, but I'm aiming for it being able to be stand alone at the moment, but may get through the story a little quicker - we'll see.


	14. Chapter 14

Just a quick sorry for the delay in getting this out. A chapter of The Girl with the Sugar Lips should be out soon too, if you want to go back and see what was happening with Edward near the start of their journey. Now on with the story:

* * *

 **TMitE Chapter 14**

"Bella, you look stunning!" exclaims Esme as I approach her in the grand ballroom of the Arlington Hotel. It's the most prestigious hotel in the city. A large, brass plaque in reception reports that it has stood on this spot for the last 108 years. The ballroom itself is magnificent with its high vaulted ceilings, elaborate crystal chandeliers, and polished oak floor.

Most of the room is occupied with a multitude of large round tables, each one set out for a formal dining experience for eight people. Around the edge, where people are currently congregating in their ball gowns and tuxedos, there are various smaller tables set out for the silent auction. Each of these tables is tastefully adorned with a silk cloth in purple tones on which sits either a donated gift or a placard describing a donated experience. Beside each gift is an elegant, carved wooden box with a slot in the top and a stack of expensive-looking cards on which bidders can write their name and a sum of money. Later in the evening, the boxes will be opened and the bid with the most money will be announced.

Being someone who hates to be late, I'd arrived early, and so I've already had a look around at the auction donations. I was tempted to bid on a few items. Just for fun. I knew I'd not be able to afford a winning bid. I looked longingly at the trip to Aspen, the days sailing, the autographed Mariners shirt that Charlie would love, and the weekend stay in a palatial home in the Hamptons. But the one item that really caught my eye was a first edition copy of Austen's "Pride and Prejudice," my absolute favorite book. I'd run my fingers lovingly over the dust cover before I quickly snatched up the pen. It was probably a very modest bid, compared to everyone else's, but it represented a lot to me, and I figured it was worth a shot. Perhaps no one else would bid. Yeah, right!

At the front of the room, there is a raised dais, from which I will later have to do my speech. I glance at it nervously. If I let my mind linger on that part of the evening too much, I know I'll start to get an attack of the nerves. Again. Alice and Angela have already had to talk me down from the edge once tonight, as I started hyperventilating and threatening not to go, while they were helping me to get ready. My panic attack was partly over my nerves about speaking in public but also partly about my anxiety over whether or not Edward will be here. At that point, I wasn't sure which was scaring me more, but now I know for certain it's the speaking in public. I take in the size of the room, the number of tables, and the number of chairs. All these people look to be so confident, walking around, conversing with friends and acquaintances, dressed in their designer clothes. Why should they listen to me? My mind races through all the things that could go wrong.

I could trip getting to the stage. I could spill soup down my dress before I even get there. I could get my dress caught in my underwear and take the stage with my ass on show. I could freeze totally and not be able to say a word. The mike could fail to operate. I could lose my cue cards and forget everything I was going to say. They could all ignore me and carry on talking while I pour my heart out to them. They could laugh as I stumble over a word and accidentally say a swear word.

The list is endless.

"How are you feeling?" continues Esme, smiling at me excitedly.

"Okay," I reply, a little too quickly. "As long as I don't think too much about it." I attempt to return her smile.

She looks me closely in the eye. "You're panicking over all the things that could go wrong, aren't you?"

How does she know these things? I give her a small nod and a worried look. I really am starting to panic now. At least Esme and Carlisle have arrived alone. No Edward. I'm too nervous to ask if they're expecting him. At the moment, I just don't want to know. I've got too much else to worry about.

She takes my arm, patting my hand reassuringly. "Come with me." She leads me out of the ballroom and to the adjoining bathrooms. Once inside, she sits me in a chair and kneels down in front of me.

"Bella, look at me." I look into her eyes. Her face is reassuring, as are her words. "You've worked on this speech for weeks; you know what you want to say backward. You have your crib notes in your bag, and you look amazing. Remember what we talked about. If you're nervous at first, just look at me and Carlisle; we're your anchors. Any time you need reassurance, look at us. In a moment, I'm going to take you out there to meet some friends of ours. Other people you can look at who you know will be supporting you. The rest of the people out there don't exist. You are talking to me, Carlisle, and a few of our friends."

"You and Carlisle are my anchor," I repeat, taking a few deep breaths. "No one else exists."

"That's right," she says, looking at me closely, obviously try to gauge my current mental state.

"I can do this," I continue, willing myself to believe it. "I know what I need to say."

"That's it. Ready to join the masses?" she asks. I nod, and she helps me up and starts to lead me back out to the ballroom.

"When am I expected to speak?" I ask as we approach Carlisle.

"I believe you're up just after the first course, so not too long to wait. Then you can just enjoy the rest of the evening. I think they're hoping your speech will give people a hefty push to dig deep into their wallets before the auction closes."

"I hope we raise a lot of money for the charity." This is what we're here for, after all. I know we're just one project this charity supports, and there are always more projects than money. If I focus on the big picture of why I'm putting myself through this, it may help.

"I'm sure tonight will be a huge success," chips in Carlisle. "Especially with such a passionate and, may I say, beautiful advocate as yourself speaking. Talking of which, I must do my part. I have my eye on a weekend trip to Paris that I need to bid on." He winks at Esme, and I realize where his son gets his charm from.

"He's right, you know," says Esme stepping back to take me in. "That dress looks even better than in the photo." Then a strange look crosses her face. "That's a beautiful necklace. A Swan, just like your name. Where did you get it? It really is exquisite."

I reach my hand up to touch the mysterious necklace that I'd received for my birthday all those weeks ago. I still have no idea who sent it, but when Alice had been going through my meager jewelry collection to select something to go with my dress tonight, she'd declared it the perfect accessory, and I have to admit it looks good, the faux diamonds complimenting the sparkling silver filigree around the waist of my dress.

"It was a present for my birthday," I tell Esme. "But it's a little perplexing. You see, the sender didn't include a card, so I still have no idea who it was from."

She takes on an even more puzzled look. "It must have been from someone who you mean a lot to. If I'm not mistaken, I've seen this piece before. I believe it comes from a jeweler near my house. They do one-off pieces and source only the best diamonds. It's where I send Carlisle whenever he has some serious making up to do."

"You must be mistaken," I say. "I'm sure these can't be real diamonds. If someone had sent me something that unique and special, I'm sure they would have let me know by now." I can't believe anyone I know would send me something that expensive. Unless ... No, he hardly knew me then. And surely, he would have said something when he saw me wearing it. Wouldn't he? I remember him touching the necklace and asking about a boyfriend.

I notice Esme is still looking intently at the necklace around my throat with a strange, puzzled expression on her face as if she's trying to solve a big mystery.

She looks up at my face, and I see her expression shift as she shakes her head, as if to clear it. "I'm sure you're right, dear. It's probably a different necklace than the one I saw. It's still beautiful. And looks so good on you. Come, let's find Carlisle, and I'll introduce you to some people."

The rest of the cocktail part of the evening is taken up with me being introduced to several of Carlisle and Esme's friends. As Esme introduces me and talks about the work I've done at the hospital in setting up the program, I pick up on the pride in her voice. By the time they are calling us to sit down for the meal, I feel like I've met half the people in the room. Everyone was very friendly and welcoming, and it's really helped to settle my nerves. It's good to know I'll have some support around the room. I'm even starting to relax. Especially as there is no sign of Edward. With his need for punctuality, I know he'd have been here by now if he was coming.

One highlight of the evening so far was running into Mike Newton, who is there with his sister. He was very complimentary about my dress, and, if I'm not mistaken, was flirting outrageously with me. I suppose, now there's no chance he will be my boss, I'm free to date him. He's no Edward, but I get on well with him. I find the idea of going on a date not entirely repulsive.

I vow that if he asks, I'll give it a go. After all, I'm a free woman now. Not that I was ever actually taken.

"We should find our seats," says Carlisle as he glances at his watch. I look around and notice everyone else is also making their way through the chairs and starting to sit down. I follow on behind as he escorts Esme toward our seats for the formal meal.

"He's cutting it fine," Carlisle says to Esme out the corner of his mouth.

"He always does at these things; you know how he hates to mingle," she replies with a roll of her eyes. "But he'll be here. It's important to him too."

She looks at me with the curious expression I've caught on her face a few times tonight. I think about asking her about it, but then Carlisle steps to one side and looks over his shoulder, toward the door, and my breath dies in my throat.

"Ahh, there you are, son," says Carlisle to the late arrival. I can't help staring. He looks staggeringly stunning, dressed in a well-fitted tuxedo that shows off his tall, toned frame to its best. I thought he looked good in a suit, but dressed up like this, he is to die for, and if the sudden overbeating of my heart is anything to go by, that is exactly what I'm about to do.

I feel the familiar reaction in my body and curse it. It's over. We want different things. I repeat the phrase in my mind like a mantra.

I watch as he approaches us, his eyes not leaving mine. But it's too much. I look down.

"Edward," I hear Esme say on my right, and the two lean toward each other for a welcoming kiss.

"You must meet, Bella," she continues. "I believe you two may know each other. She's going to be giving a speech tonight about the program she runs. You know, the one I volunteer for? I believe she also used to work for you."

"Miss Swan and I are acquainted," he says as he reaches out his hand, and I look confused before I realize he wants me to shake it. So we're going to play it this way, are we? At least he's admitting to knowing me. I tentatively place my hand in his, my ire building at his nonchalance.

And then I feel it. The tingling starts where his skin meets mine but seems to send sparks through my body. I gasp at the feelings his touch elicits in me. Feelings I don't want to be feeling. Not anymore. Not now it's over.

I try and pull my hand back, but he has it trapped. I watch, dumbfounded, as he lifts my hand up to his lips, planting a delicate kiss on my knuckles. His eyes never leave mine, and I try to read the emotions there, but I'm too busy trying to control my own as he releases my hand, and a strong wave of loss and disappointment sweeps over me. I silently curse him for still having this control over my body and my emotions.

"How are you finding working at McCarty's?" he asks conversationally.

I bite my lower lip, struggling for control. His eyes follow the movement, and I see a flash of hunger in his eyes. It would appear I may still have some power here. That he craves me as much as I crave him. I just wish it wasn't only physical on his side.

I finally find my tongue. "It's definitely different, but I think I'm going to do well there."

"I'm pleased," he says, a genuine smile lighting up his face. "You deserve success. You deserve a lot, more than I was able to offer you."

His words remind me of why we are no longer together. Why I had to walk away. No matter how charming he is, or how much my body craves him, he can't give me what I deserve.

"But things change," I hear him add, and my eyes flash back up to his. What does that mean?

"Maybe we can talk later about you perhaps establishing a new position with me." Is he serious? Is he talking about us in a personal capacity? I remind myself that I've been here before. That I've allowed myself to believe he wanted more, only to be disappointed.

"Son," says Carlisle, breaking us from our little bubble and reminding me the rest of the world still exists. "From what I hear, the poor girl has only just started work at Emmett's. It would be a little unorthodox for you to go offering her a better deal at this point. Besides, tonight it not the time to talk business. If you want to proposition Miss Swan, I suggest you take the matter up on Monday."

I look down at the floor, trying desperately to regain my composure.

Just then, the master of ceremonies announces it's time for us to find our seats. As we make our way to our table, I'm hyperaware of Edward walking just behind me.

When we get to the table, Carlisle helps me into my seat. On my right is a middle-aged man with a welcoming, friendly face and a paunch that speaks of a well-lived life. His equally plump wife, on his other side, smiles up at Carlisle with a wistful look in her eye. Carlisle then takes the seat to my left. I watch Edward pull out the seat on the other side of Carlisle for Esme before taking the next seat around the table. The table quickly fills up with a younger couple, who don't seem to be able to stop touching each other.

The conversation seems to flow around me. But my nerves build. Not only is it getter closer and closer to my speech, but I can feel Edward's eyes on me. I'm seriously starting to worry if I'm going to make it through the evening.

Then, the first course plates are cleared, with me having hardly touched a bite. I know I'm up. After a few moments, I hear my name being called. I quickly pick up my notecards and make my way, on shaking legs, to the lectern.

Once there, I take a deep breath and look over at our table where I take in a proud, beaming Esme. She gives me a quick thumbs up. I smile and my eyes drift involuntarily to her son. He is turned slightly in his seat in order to look fully in my direction. He gives me a small smile and a nod. I take it as a show of support, pushing my conflicted feelings over this man to the back of my mind.

I take a deep breath and start.

Before I know it, I'm returning to my seat accompanied by rolling rounds of applause. It seemed to go well. Once I got into my stride, the words just seemed to flow, coming straight from my heart. I didn't hold back on showing my passion and emotions, just as Esme advised. As I looked around the room, I saw a sea of faces, all looking my way, all hanging on my words.

I return to my seat as the master of ceremonies announces people have a few moments to enter bids for the auction items before the main course is served. When I get back, Edward is missing, and Esme explains he has gone to place some bids.

As I sit there, several people come up to congratulate me on a great speech and in the work I'm doing at the hospital, including Mike, who gives me a warm hug accompanied by words of praise for a great speech. I thank him sincerely, but as I pull back, I see Edward watching us. He looks murderous. But what right does he have over me and my actions? I divert my attention back to Mike. "We should fix up to go on that date sometime." Okay, I may make sure my voice carries to Edward's part of the table, and I may emphasis the word date. Just slightly. So sue me. If he doesn't want to take me out, I'm going to find someone who does.

The smile on Mike's face lets me know a date would be a great idea to him. "Give me your phone," he asks and swiftly enters his number once I hand it over, then calls himself quickly. "Now I've got your number. I'll call you in the week. Are you free next Friday?"

"That'll be great, Mike," I say, returning his smile.

As Mike leaves, I retake my seat. I can't look in Edward's direction. I don't need, or want, to see his expression. Instead, I turn to talk to Carlisle. I look past him to Esme, who is looking sad, watching her son. It's not my problem. He needs to deal with his own issues.

The next few minutes fly past with several other visitors to congratulate me, and before I know it, I'm tucking into a plate of perfectly cooked salmon with asparagus and green beans. Now that I can relax, I spend this course talking to Carlisle, who I'm finding highly entertaining as he regales me with stories of when he and Esme were young.

After our plates are cleared, there is a quick presentation from the charities chairperson highlighting some of the other projects they've supported over the last year. All of them are so worthwhile, and I hope the funds raised tonight will ensure they can all continue to be funded.

She then warns everyone there are only a few minutes left to place a bid. Edward has been gone for the last ten minutes, and I've been enjoying the chance to catch my breath. I've not actually spoken to him all evening, but I've felt his presence. Every time I've glanced in his direction, his eyes have been on me. Just knowing he is sitting only a few seats away is driving me crazy.

Dessert is served, and the master of ceremonies once again takes the stage. I half-listen as she goes through the winning bids. Carlisle is rewarded with a kiss on the cheek from Esme as he wins the trip to Paris.

"Looks like I may be getting lucky tonight," he says, winking in my direction as Esme playfully swats his arm and rolls her eyes, but I see the twinkle in them also. He will be getting lucky. I smile at her.

"Please, Dad, TMI." It's the first time since his arrival Edward has been part of an interaction with me, and I can't help looking in his direction. I notice he's not looking happy. There's a scowl on his face.

"Oh, Edward, loosen up," I hear from the man on my right, who I have learned is called Tom Tugendhat and is big in zinc. "I'm sure any lady treated to a trip to Paris would be very appreciative, isn't that right, Bella? I bet if your young fella were to whisk you away for a romantic weekend in the city of love, you'd find a way to thank him."

I look down as I feel the color rising up my cheeks. "The only problem with that is I don't happen to have a fella, young or otherwise, to whisk me away," I confess.

"Well, I'm sure it's not for want of them trying. Just look at that young man earlier. He was practically pushing others aside to get your number. I imagine they're lining up round the block to take out a beautiful, smart woman like yourself. But don't you settle for anything less than the best."

He pats me on the arm in a fatherly manner as his wife leans in from his other side. "Leave the poor girl alone. Can't you see you're embarrassing her?" As he turns his focus to her, I zone them out and try to look at Edward without him noticing. But as I look up, our eyes meet. Gone is the anger from earlier, and all I see is what looks to me like sorrow. I wonder if he regrets now how things ended between us. If he'd do things differently if he could go back. I wonder if I might. But then my attention is drawn to the stage as they announce the next lot up is the Jane Austin I bid on.

"And the winning bid," continues the announcer, "and a very generous bid it is too, for this rare first edition Jane Austin classic, "Pride and Prejudice," is ... well it says here it's a gift ... to our fabulous speaker tonight, Bella Swan."

My eyes widen in shock. I can't imagine my budget was large enough to win. It certainly wouldn't be described as generous. Then I realize she said it was a gift. Someone bid for it on my behalf.

"There is a note attached to the bid that I'm requested to read out," continues the charity representative, a slim, leggy brunette in a shimmery silver ankle-length dress.

Then I see a movement at the edge of the stage. It's Edward. When did he leave the table? He climbs up onto the dais and whispers in the tall lady's ear.

She nods then bends her head toward the mike.

"Mr. Cullen has requested he be allowed to read the note."

She promptly steps back, and Edward takes the stand.

He looks down at the note and starts to read.

"This book is a gift for someone very important to me. She once revealed to me this was her favorite book and that she'd read it more times than she could remember ..." He trails off then looks up, letting his gaze travel around the room.

"To be completely honest, I don't need to read the note, seeing as how I wrote it." His eyes fall on me and stick. "A friend recently advised me that in affairs of the heart one sometimes needs to make a grand gesture. Especially when one has—to put things bluntly—fucked everything up." A quiet ripple of laughter flows round the room. "I stupidly thought buying a book, albeit one I know she loves, and leaving her a note would suffice. But she deserves more than that. As she told me herself, she deserves everything." He looks down, and when he looks back up at me, I'm floored by the emotion I see in his eyes.

"Bella Swan—" I watch as most of the eyes in the room turn to me. I feel my cheeks grow red. "—you have crawled under my skin, just as Elizabeth Bennett got under the skin of Mr. Darcy. Neither of us may be very good at expressing our emotions and listening to our hearts, but ..."

He looks up to the ceiling, as if searching for inspiration, then his eyes slowly scan back down to mine.

Then I see his whole expression change as his eyes flick to the back of the room. "Fuck," he exclaims, "I have to go."

I look round, trying to see what has caused this reaction, but I see nothing out of the ordinary. I look back around in time to see Edward striding purposefully toward the exit of the room. He is completely focused on his goal, never once looking in my direction. A murmur is building in the room and the leggy lady steps up to the mike to regain control and continue with the auction. But I'm not listening. My mind is in turmoil. Did he mean what he said? Why did he rush off so abruptly? The look on his face in those last moments terrifies me. He'd turned pale, almost as if he'd just received the worst possible news. I have no idea what could have made him act that way.

I turn to the table where all eyes are on me.

"I have to go," I say, then turn to Esme, who is wearing the biggest smile I've ever seen on her features. Carlisle is looking between the two of us and up to the stage where Edward once stood, looking extremely confused.

"I don't understand," he says. "Are you and Edward in a relationship?"

"Ummm …" I say, as I really don't know how to answer that question.

"Oh course they are, and it's the most wonderful news ever. Don't you see, Carlisle? It was Edward who bought her the necklace; it's been her who's been making him smile. He loves her."

What? Love? No one said anything about love. I shake Esme's enthusiasm off and look round. Everyone is still watching me. I don't like this kind of attention. I need some time to think through what Edward just said. And to find him. How can he say all that then just leave.

"I have to go," I repeat. "Esme," I say, trying to gain her focus. "If Edward comes back, please tell him I'll be back. I just need to …" What do I need to do? Sort my head out. Re-think everything I thought I knew. Figure out what is going on in Edward's head.

"Don't worry, dear. We'll tell him you'll be back soon. But don't be long. I want to know everything."

Hmmm. Everything. I really don't think that's for his mother's ears. She may need a watered-down version of reality.

"Just tell him I've not left. I've not run away. I am coming back."

"I'll let him know, Bella," says Carlisle with a smile.

I nod and leave the table, knowing everyone is watching my departure. This must be better than an episode of "Days of Our Lives."

As I exit the ballroom, I look around, but there is no sign of his characteristic mop of hair, so I head to the bathrooms, hoping I can get a little peace and quiet there. I'm in luck. It would appear, with the auction being announced and the added entertainment of Edward, the perpetual bachelor, declaring himself as taken, everyone has stayed in the hall. I look at myself in the mirror.

He said I was very important to him. He said I'd crawled under his skin. He bought me the necklace. He made a grade gesture. He did it to show he cares. To show I'm more than a quick fuck in the back of a limo. And he did it all in front of his family, his friends, his colleagues.

I know what I have to do. I have to find my Elevator Man and let him know I feel the same.

I take a deep breath and step out of the bathroom, straight into a hard chest. I feel myself pushed back against the wall. Arms circle my waist as a mouth leans down and whispers in my ear, "Isabella Swan."

* * *

AN: Thanks as always to Robstenfanpire for giving this a good read through for me, and to Alice's White Rabbit for adding all the commas I miss. Who knew you needed so many! Let me know what you think. Reviews are always read and cherished, even if I sometimes fail to get back to every single one - I do try my best to answer you all.

So, why did Edward run off? Who has Bella outside the bathroom? Will she take him back? Does he need to do more to win her back? Does declaring his feeling in front of his parents (and a room full of other people) mean he's ready to give her it all? Let me know the answers to these, and any other questions you can think of.

P.S. I can't believe this story now has over 1000 reviews. You guys are amazing in the support and encouragement you have shown me. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.


	15. Chapter 15

**The Man in the Elevator - Chapter 15**

I'm pinned up hard against the wall of the corridor that leads to the bathrooms, a hard body forced firmly against me, holding me in place. My right arm is twisted behind my back, held tight and painfully high.

I let out a gasp, as I feel a sweaty hand fall across my mouth.

"You'll do well to keep that shut if you know what's good for you."

I can feel the man's warm breath against my temple. He's tall, but not as tall as Edward, and he smells overpoweringly of cheap aftershave. It's a smell I remember from when he used to lean over me as I sat in my cubicle at work, on those rare occasions when he spoke to me directly instead of going through Victoria.

James.

However, there is no way I'm adhering to his commands. Other people can't be too far away. I draw in a deep breath to scream while figuring out how I can raise my knee to do the most damage to James' private parts.

But then I feel something cold and hard push into my side. I look down and take in the glint of a metal gun barrel. It's held firmly in the hand of a woman who has suddenly appeared beside me. I follow the arm up and take in the hotel uniform being worn by the same woman I saw in the bar the other night. The one with the dark hair and long bangs obscuring her face. Up close though, even with the change in makeup, and what I presume is a wig, there is no mistaking her for anyone but Victoria.

"That's right, Isabella," says James, his breath fanning out over my face, "we don't want to hurt you, if it can be avoided. We just need to talk to you. So I suggest you come with us quietly, or Vikki may get a little trigger happy with that gun. Now, I'd like to see you nod your head in agreement."

I ponder quickly how desperate these two must be to potentially add kidnapping to the charges of corporate embezzlement and figure if they are that desperate, they may well be desperate enough to shoot.

I give a small nod to show I agree to go with them. Really, what choice do I have with a gun stuck in my ribs?

An evil smirk crosses James' face, and he motions his head along the corridor, in the opposite direction from the ballroom. "This way, and if we pass anyone, you smile politely and act normal. I don't want you saying a word. We are not adverse to killing witnesses."

He pulls me in close to his side, his arm tight around my waist, and I notice he, too, is dressed in the uniform of a hotel employee. "Victoria, keep close behind us with the gun. If she makes one wrong move, shoot her in the stomach. I want her to have a long and slow death for all she's put us through."

All I've put them through? As far as I'm concerned, they've brought all of this on themselves. It wasn't me who forced them to steal from their employer.

"I didn't do anything," I hiss out through gritted teeth. In response, I feel a sharp pain in my right kidney as a blow from something hard lands there. I double up in pain, remaining upright only due to James' strong hold around my waist. As I cry out involuntarily, a hand is once again clasped over my mouth, effectively muffling the sound.

"Hush now," says James, close to my ear. "We don't want to go getting Vikki all upset. She was all for just shooting you outright once we were sure it was you working with Cullen. You see, we need to get our hands on that money. Our creditors are getting twitchy, and when they get twitchy, legs get broken, knee caps get shot, fingernails get removed, and worse. If it's a choice between you or me, well I'm sorry, but I'm not going down just because you can't keep your nose out of where it doesn't belong."

I have no idea what he's talking about. Creditors? Broken legs? Fingernails? It certainly sounds like they're into some shady dealings.

He pulls me along—fast. I look around desperately for something, anything, I can use to alert people or use as a weapon, but I see nothing. I wonder if I can make a run for it. But James has a strong grip on me, and even if Victoria is a poor shot, at this range, it would be nearly impossible to miss. I think about screaming, but once again, I'd probably be dead and so, potentially, would anyone who came to my rescue. I know I'll just have to bide my time and see what they want.

At the end of the corridor, we take a right into another none-descript hotel corridor, then pass through a door leading to a short flight of stairs. I stumble a little as I start to make my way up, but James' arm around me once again stops me from falling. I hear Victoria give a sadistic chuckle behind me as I scrape my shin.

When we reach the top, James peers through the glass panel in the door in front of us, looking both ways before pushing me through. The corridor we enter is functionally decorated, and I assume this is a part of the hotel where guests don't go. Perhaps where the managers and such have offices. We pass a couple doors on our right, but they're all shut, before we get to what looks like an external door at the end.

James turns the handle and practically drags me outside into the dark, narrow alley that runs along the back of the hotel. On the other side is a solid brick wall, belonging, I presume, to the neighboring building. The two structures seem to tower over us, blocking out all but a thin sliver of sky. There are no lights, but the nearly full moon is high and peeks over the opposite building, causing long, eerie shadows to fall around us. I don't have long to consider my surroundings or what's going to happen next, as my attention is drawn to two figures standing a short distance down the alley. The taller of the two is a man I would recognize anywhere, the slight red tint to his hair catching the moon light. He has the other, a blond-haired, older man, held up against the wall, his hand around his throat.

"Edward," I gasp, wondering what the hell he's doing here, strangling Caius Volturi.

Both men look in our direction, and I see a smirk break out on Caius' face. "So nice of you to join us, Isabella. Now, Edward, if you'd be so kind as to release me, we can conclude our business."

Edward looks back at Caius as I hear James chuckle in my ear, once again pulling me in close to his side.

"And why the fuck would I do that?" Edward growls.

"Victoria?" says Caius is a sing-song voice, and she steps around me and brings her revolver up to my temple. "Because we now know how important Miss Swan is to you, as well as to your case against us. We've been watching your little get-togethers. Secret meetings in your limo, seedy meet-ups in the back alleys of bars. We know it all, Edward."

Edward's hands visibly tighten on Caius' neck, and he leans in closer to him, the two men's faces are now only inches apart. "You touch one hair on her head and I swear to God …"

"What, Edward?" Caius' voice is strained as his breath is forced passed Edward's throttling grip, but he still manages to sound smug. "What exactly are you going to do? As I see it, I hold all the cards. Now, if you would be so kind as to release me, I'll let you know exactly what is going to happen next."

Edward hesitates. I can see him warring with himself. I've known Victoria a while. When I first started working with her, I liked her. She was friendly, helpful, and welcoming. Obviously, I've learned she also has a darker side. But just because she was willing to steal from her employer, does that really mean she is capable of killing someone? But then desperate times lead to people doing desperate things, and if they're about to lose everything, including their freedom, or perhaps even their own lives, maybe they would be willing to shoot me.

It seems Edward is thinking similar thoughts. His hands loosen from around Caius' neck, and I see the red color that had developed on his face start to subside, returning him to his usual pale complexion. But Edward doesn't release Caius completely from his hold. "I don't believe you'd be stupid enough to harm either one of us. Right now, you're up on charges of theft and embezzlement, but shooting someone is a whole different ball game. You'd never see light again."

"There are worse things than prison, Edward. Besides, the three of us aren't even here. If your pretty girlfriend were to die in this dirty alley tonight, we have watertight alibis putting us elsewhere. You, on the other hand, are clearly here, and she will have been killed with a gun registered in your name. I think it would be some sort of justice to see you locked up for her murder while we walk free with the case against us dissolving."

"I don't own a gun!" he splutters.

"You do now. It's amazing how easy it is to buy one in someone else's name when you're in possession of a doctored copy of their driver's license."

I see Edward's shoulders slump, and his hands fall from Caius' neck. He takes a step back, clearly resigned to having lost. James gives another chuckle in my ear and rubs his sweaty hand up the side of my dress, pulling me in closer to him, obviously enjoying how this is going down.

"Very good," says Caius, straightening his suit. "Now, we can talk like civilized human beings. This is how I see the future unfolding." He turns to me. "Beautiful Bella, you really should have listened to our warnings. But now you know the consequences of disobedience. Now you know to be a good girl and do exactly as we ask." As he talks, he walks over to me and runs his fingers down the side of my face, then down my neck.

"Get your hands off her," I hear Edward roar, then Caius is dragged away from me and held, once more, against the hard brick wall, Edward's forearm this time pushing him back against the rough surface.

He doesn't look ruffled though.

"Victoria, it would appear Edward needs another reminder of who is in charge here." He looks in our direction. "The leg, I think; wouldn't want to spoil that beautiful body just yet."

I feel the cold hard metal of the gun removed from my temple, then I cry out as I feel a searing pain shoot through my leg. It appears to emanate from just below my knee, but the pain feels like it's spreading like fire through my veins, shooting up my thigh and down my shin. My legs crumble beneath me with the pain, and James' grip on my waist is all that's now holding me up. I hear Victoria laughing through the ringing in my ears.

The sound is almost instantly drowned out by a primeval cry that emanates from Edward. I watch in slow motion as he releases Caius and lunges for Victoria. His face is pulled back in a scowl, his teeth bared, and his eyes wild.

Then, everything seems to happen at once. Edward bowls Victoria over, landing on top of her. The back door to the hotel crashes opens, and a heavy-set man exits, followed closely by Agent Whitlock. I hear a gun shot just as I see the new arrivals both pull out guns from under their jackets. James drops me to the ground, producing another wave of crippling pain that tears through my body. I see Caius turn away from the men, heading up the alley, away from the street, but then I see him hit the deck as another shot rings out through the night.

I look in Edward's direction, and everything else becomes background noise. He is still lying on top of Victoria, but he's not moving. She's clawing at his shoulders, trying in vain to push him off. Then I notice the blood seeping out from under his body in a dark pool, the dim light making it look almost black. I crawl over to him. The pain in my leg now completely forgotten. Words are coming from my mouth, but they seem distant, as if someone else is saying them. "Please, no. God. Please. Let him be okay. Don't let him be hurt."

I pull at his shoulder, and, with Victoria's help pushing, I get him on his back. I'm vaguely aware of Victoria scrambling away from us, blood coating her polyester skirt and shirt, and the sound of shouted voices around me, but they mean nothing to me. I look down at his body, searching for the source of his injury, but there seems to be so much blood. I pull him to me, and his eyes flicker open, and for a second, they seem so clear. He focuses on my face. "Bella," he whispers, his voice strained and quiet. I lean closer to him, whispering words of comfort, begging him to conserve his strength, to stay with me.

"Bella," he interrupts, "I have to … You need to know …" I feel the tears forming rivulets down my cheeks as I stroke his face, willing my strength into him, willing this not to be the end. "I love you, Bella." The words are so quiet they are hardly there, and as soon as he gets them out, his eyes close, and his body goes limp in my grasp.

I cry out, my emotions echoing his from earlier as he hurled himself at Victoria. This can't be the end. It can't.

* * *

AN: I promise the next one will be out very, very soon. I will not leave you hanging for long.

I also apologies for not getting back to any of your reviews on the last chapter. My priorities have been: 1) Real life (end of term report writing, and Christmas preps - you should see the X-mas tree I made for work out of recycled material (we're an eco-friendly nursery) - and prep for new job, plus hubby and kids - apparently I need to do x-mas shopping!), 2) Writing the new chapters so you're not waiting too long, 3) Replying to reviews. Unfortunately 3 didn't happen. It doesn't mean I don't appreciate each and every one, because I do more than you will ever realise. There are a few that I'd love to get back to, but we'll see, as I really need to work on the next chapter as I want to get it out in 7 days time.

Love you all. MT76


	16. Chapter 16

**The Man in the Elevator - Chapter 16**

I'm dimly aware of the sound of sirens, but all I can hear is a faint, slow thump. My head has fallen to Edward's chest, and all I know is that as long as this deep, measured rhythm continues, my life can go on. As long as his heart continues to pump what little blood it has left to his vital organs, I still have hope.

I hear voices. I need them to be quiet so I can hear.

I feel strong arms around me, pulling me. I cling to Edward. He needs me. I need him. I can't let him go. I scream and claw at the arms grasping me around my waist, dragging me away from him. But they are stronger than I am.

I watch, helpless, as other strangers surround him.

I become aware of a voice, whispering in my ear, as I watch those who register somewhere in my brain as paramedics swarm around Edward. Clothes are cut away, instruments are strapped to him and stuck in him. I see them talk constantly, telling each other what they're doing, asking him to respond, but none of the sound reaches me. All I hear now are my own wails and the soothing calm whisper in my ear.

"It's okay, Bella. Let them do their work. He's still with us. He's still with you. He's a fighter, and he has a reason to fight. But you have to let them do their jobs for the moment. Let them stop the bleeding. Let them get him stable. I promise I won't keep you apart any longer than is necessary. It's okay. Please, calm down for me, Bella. You need to calm down. If you want me to let you go, you have to calm down.

Do you hear me, Bella? Edward needs you to be calm."

The continued soothing words slowly seem to work. I stop screaming. I stop fighting him. Instead, going limp in his embrace. My breathing is still heavy, but his calming presence is starting to ground me, to bring me back to the reality of the situation. I take in the narrow, dark alley behind the hotel, the cold, wet ground I'm sitting on just a few feet from Edward. Behind me, still holding me close, still not trusting me not to lose it again, is Agent Whitlock.

"What are they doing?" I ask. A detached calm washing over me.

"Helping him," is Agent Whitlock's brief reply as his grip on me starts to loosen.

"Good," I say, watching as a gurney is wheeled up the alley, and someone talks on a radio, describing his injuries and, I presume, his current condition.

A paramedic approaches us tentatively. "Miss? Can I look at your leg, please?"

Oh, yeah. James shot me. I can no longer feel a thing. A voice at the back of my mind tells me that's not necessarily a good thing.

"It's okay. Please, help him instead." I indicate Edward.

She crouches down in front of me, her head now level with my eyes. She's young, with bright blue eyes that seem to sparkly, even in the dim light of the alley. "He's getting all the help he needs right now. But you've got a serious injury there too, and I'm a little worried about your blood loss. You can't help him if you don't look after yourself." My eyes leave the calm woman standing in front of me, drawn like a magnet back to the scene behind her.

"How is he?" I ask.

She looks over. "They appear to have the bleeding under control but will want to get him to the hospital as soon as possible. They need to get blood in him soon to control the shock."

"Can I ride with him in the ambulance?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "I don't think that'll be possible. You've lost a lot of blood yourself, and his paramedics will want to be able to concentrate on him fully." This makes sense. I don't like it. I don't want him to be where I can't see him, but it makes sense.

"You can ride with me in the other ambulance," she continues, "but first I need to check you out." I nod my consent and watch over her head as they lift Edward onto the gurney and wheel him to the waiting ambulance, whose flashing lights I can see at the end of the alley.

After a few minutes of prodding and poking, followed by the feeling of a bandage being wrapped around my leg, the young paramedic with the blue eyes is back in my field of vision. "It looks to be a clean wound and doesn't appear to have hit the bone, but that will need to be checked out further when you get to the hospital. I've bandaged it, but it will need stitching." I half-listen to her as I see Edward's ambulance start to move off, just as another young paramedic wheels a gurney over to me.

I go to stand and instantly regret it as the fresh, searing pain through my calf reminds me I really was just shot. "Yeah, you may want to keep your weight off that for a while," says the new, gurney-pushing paramedic as he smiles at me, earning himself a scowl.

"I'll help you," says Agent Whitlock, getting to his feet. Then he reaches down and picks me up, as if I'm as light as a feather, and places me gently on the gurney.

As we follow the path Edward took moments before, I look around at the scene of such anguish. With a pain in my chest, I take in the pool of blood where Edward had been lying. Looking back, I see a similar dark red stain a few feet farther up the alley. But this pool is still occupied. Caius is lying face down, not moving. Someone is leaning over him, taking photographs, while other people, whom I presume to be police officers, some in uniform and some not, swarm around. Some look busy, taking notes, measurements, or photos; most seem to be surplus to requirements. As we progress, I notice more are congregating at the end of the alley, talking to ball gown and tuxedo-wearing patrons of the hotel or holding back the gathering crowd. Here again, many seem to be redundant and are standing around in little groups talking, watching.

As we exit onto the main street, I'm first struck by the number of flashing lights. In addition to the multitude of cars that have obviously delivered the entire local police force, there are three ambulances still in attendance.

The police have set up a cordon around the scene, and beyond this, I see what looks to be the entire population of the gala dressed in their finery, watching in morbid fascination.

"Bella!" Esme's familiar voice cuts through the noise. "Carlisle, it's Bella. Please, let us through. That's my friend."

The police officer in front of her is not budging. I draw Agent Whitlock's attention to the scene.

"Bella, what happened? Are you okay? Where's Edward? We've looked for him but can't find him. Please, tell me he's okay? Someone said they heard shots," she calls out her string of questions to me as we draw closer, the worry of a mother evident in her voice.

"Let them through," says Agent Whitlock to the officer, who grudgingly steps aside.

"He's been shot," I inform Esme. "He's lost a lot of blood, but they seem to have it under control. He's already on his way to the hospital."

"Oh, God!" she exclaims, raising her hand to her mouth as she follows us toward one of the waiting ambulances. "My poor baby." She looks pale, and if my own anxiety regarding Edward's condition is anything to go by, she must be dying inside to think of him hurt.

"I'll following you into the hospital. I'll need to get a statement from you there," says Agent Whitlock as we reach the ambulance's entrance.

Esme takes in my condition, her eyes lingering on the bandage on my leg. "Oh, Bella, you've been hurt too. My poor girl." She turns to the paramedic as I look down and see the surface of the bandage is showing a fresh red stain. "Can we travel in with her?" she asks.

"I'm afraid I can only take one extra person."

Esme turns to Carlisle with a pleading look. "You go ahead and hold Bella's hand. I'll get there as soon as I can get the car out. It may take a while," he says with a frown as he starts to pull his cell phone out of his pocket. "But I'll call the hospital now. I want to make sure they have the best people waiting for you both. Dr. Gerandy should be on tonight. I'll check that he knows what's going on."

"I'll drive you in," offers Agent Whitlock. "I'll be able to get there much quicker than you could."

Carlisle agrees, and the two of them back off as the paramedic gets me secured, and Esme climbs up behind us. I look out at the scene beyond them and get a brief glance of James and Victoria sitting in the back of an ambulance opposite, the entrance guarded by several police officers. As I watch, Victoria turns into the interior, and I notice her hands are cuffed behind her back. I look closer, and judging by James' awkward stance, I conclude his must be too.

"What will happen to them now?" I call to Agent Whitlock, and he looks in the direction of my gaze.

"Don't you worry about that now. Just rest assured I will not be allowing them to get anywhere near you or Edward." I see him shudder. "I'm just thankful Edward alerted us about seeing Caius, and we were able to get to you in time."

I nod. Further explanation of what happened here tonight can wait until I know Edward is going to be okay.

"Agent Whitlock," I call out as he starts to turn away.

"Jasper, please," he replies, turning back in my direction.

I nod. I guess we passed formalities at some point in that alley. "Jasper," I repeat. "Thank you."

He gives me a half-smile. "All part of the service." He reaches up to tip his non-existent hat and the slight southern twang in his voice is suddenly more evident.

~TMitE~

It seems like forever until I'm allowed to see Edward again. I wait in ER as I'm poked and prodded. My leg is X-rayed, and it's found that, although the bullet has torn through the muscle, which will take a while to recover, the bone has remained untouched. It's determined that my blood loss, while nowhere near Edward's, was still substantial, so they draw blood for cross-matching in case it's decided later I need an transfusion, and I'm told to watch out for feeling faint. They eventually, after what seems like hours, get around to stitching me up and dressing the wound, and I think I should be free to go soon. Free to go and find Edward and check that he's okay.

Everyone I see I ask for an update on Edward. But no one seems to have any answers, and I'm getting more and more agitated. Eventually, an older nurse relents, promising me she'll find out all she can. She comes back with Esme in tow.

"This lady was looking for you," she explains as she leaves us alone.

"I'm sorry for leaving you for so long, Bella," Esme apologizes. After we'd arrived at the hospital, I'd insisted she go and find Edward. I needed to know he had someone with him if I couldn't be there.

"How's he doing?" I ask, desperate for answers.

"They've just taken him into surgery. They need to assess the damage to his abdomen and, hopefully, to make the necessary repairs," she explains. "They say he's stable, and Carlisle reassures me that his outlook is good, and I believe him. Edward's a fighter. He'll get through this." I'm not sure if she's trying to convince me or herself, but I choose to cling to her hope and optimism.

"Is he awake?" I ask.

"He woke briefly after they'd got some blood into him, but he was very groggy, and they put him under soon after to take him into the operating room. She looks down and then back into my eyes. "He was asking for you." I see so many questions swimming in the depths of the eyes that look so much like her son's, but I see her hesitating, perhaps she's unsure where to start, or perhaps she doesn't know if now is the time to push, but either way, she holds back. But I know I owe her some sort of explanation.

"You can ask me, Esme. What do you want to know?"

"Is he the man you were seeing? The one you didn't think was ready?" I nod my head, and she nods hers in return. "You might have been right a few weeks ago," she agrees. "But I've seen a change in him, and then tonight, when he got up on that stage and told us all how he feels. Oh, Bella, my heart just nearly melted. My little boy's allowed himself to love again." I see tears spring to her eyes, and it warms my heart that she can see it too. It may have taken him a little while to realize it, but his mother spotted it straight away.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Esme. But it wasn't just my secret to tell, and I also didn't see much point. I didn't think it was going to go anywhere. When I found out he was your son, when I visited your house, it was also when I found out about Lisa. It was all a shock, and it made me face up to my feelings toward him and also how I thought he felt about me. I knew he was still grieving for Lisa, and it explained why he kept me at arm's length, never letting me get too close."

"But that's changed now," she says.

"I think so."

"You'll be good for him," she continues. "You've got so much energy, so much zest for life. And he'll support you through thick and thin. One thing about my son: when he commits, he commits fully. When I first saw him with Lisa, I knew the two of them were destined to be together. I get the same feeling with you now."

Lisa. The other woman in his life. Shit. Edward and I have so much to talk about. Is he really over her? Do we really have a future together with him still feeling so much loss? But these questions pale to nothing when he is still not out of the woods.

The nurse comes back into the room and, after checking me over one more time, tells me I'm well enough to leave but that I must come back if I feel at all faint. She gives me a pair of crutches as I'm not able to put weight on my bad leg, and I gingerly leave the ER.

Esme shows me the way up to the operating room waiting room where an anxious Carlisle is pacing the floor. "I feel I should be doing something," he explains to his wife. "But they won't let me help."

She hugs him and reassures him that his presence is helping her. Then we sit and wait. Carlisle clutching Esme's hand while I try and get comfortable on the hard plastic chair. My leg is aching, but I'm not due another dose of pain meds for a couple more hours, so I endure it.

After what seems like forever, but the clock tells me is only a couple hours, a doctor, who appears to be a similar age to Carlisle, enters the room. He's smiling, which, if the release of tension I feel from both Esme and Carlisle is anything to go my, we all see as a good sign.

"Good news. As we suspected, the bullet avoided all major organs, even though it passed close to his spine. We've stitched up the tear in his intestine, and we expect him to make a full recovery."

"Thank you, Jim," say's Carlisle, reaching out and shaking the doctor's hand.

"When can we see him?" asks Esme.

"I can take you to him now, but it will be a while before the anesthetic wears off, so he'll be asleep for a while, and when he does wake, he will still need his rest."

Esme smiles at Carlisle, and the two of them move to follow the doctor out of the room. I stay seated, not sure if it's appropriate for me to intrude on this private family moment.

Esme looks back at me. "You coming, Bella?" She smiles at me. I smile back and, positioning the crutches under my arms, I follow her out of the room as she holds the door open for me.

The three of us sit with Edward for a while, but when Esme starts yawning, Carlisle points out the time and insists she go home to get some rest. She reluctantly agrees, stroking her son's face and wishing him a good night. He's not woken yet, but we've been reassured by Carlisle this is perfectly normal and to be expected.

"Can we offer you a lift? It's late; you'd be lucky to get a cab," says Carlisle. I shake my head. There's no way I'm leaving him.

"I'm going to stay, I think. I don't want him to wake alone."

"You need your rest too," he insists. "You've been through a lot tonight, Bella. Your body needs sleep to have time to repair."

"I can sleep here," I say, indicating the arm chair that doesn't look too uncomfortable.

Esme frowns but doesn't try and persuade me otherwise. "Well, at least let's try and rustle you up some clothes so you can be more comfortable." She looks to Carlisle, who nods and leaves the room. I look down at my attire. I'm still in my ball gown. My blood-covered ball gown. Suddenly, I realize how I must look. I reach up and feel my hair, realizing it too is matted with blood, probably from when I rested my head on Edward. "Why don't you go into the bathroom and get cleaned up. I'll drop the clothes in when Carlisle gets back," she offers. I nod my head and go into the adjoining private bathroom.

There's a full-length mirror in here, and I take in my appearance, observing just how much ofEdward's blood is coating me still, staining my skin, despite attempts by the nurses in ER to clean me up. And that is when it hits me. I nearly lost him. Tonight, just as I thought I was getting him back, I nearly lost my elevator man. I collapse to the floor, sobbing silent tears. It's there that Esme finds me, and after holding me for what seems like forever, she helps me out of my blood-stained dress and into the shower. I sit on the little bench seat as she washes my hair, being careful to keep my leg bandage dry. As she does, she tells me stories about Edward as a boy. I find her words comforting. Then she helps me to dry and dress in the yoga pants and T-shirt that Carlisle had found, apparently borrowed from one of the nurses. After ensuring I've pulled myself back together, she and Carlisle hug me and leave for the night with reassurances they'll be back early the next day.

I settle into the chair, but I don't sleep. I can't sleep. So I talk to him. I tell him how he's a fool for letting me walk away but that I'm grateful he stood up for me at the gala. I tell him about my work for the charity, about how I know his mother. I tell him about finding out about Lisa. I tell him about my dad, about growing up in a small town in Washington. I tell his about Alec, my ex who cheated on me, about why I was reluctant to be involved with him after that disastrous experience. I tell him about my friends, about Angela and Ben, about Alice. I tell him about my job, how I'm loving the challenge, and how Rosalie and Emmett behave in the office.

I sit on the chair next to Edward, and I listen to the sound of the monitor he's now hooked up to beep out a steady rhythm. My proof he is still here; he is still with me. I let the sound keep me calm.

Eventually though, the events of the day catch up with me, and I find myself, despite the uncomfortable chair, dropping off. But every time I close my eyes, I hear the crack of gunfire, and I see blood streaming out from under his body. I lose count of the times I jerk upright, waking from a fitful half-sleep state. But, I guess, eventually sheer exhaustion takes its toll. I wake to a soft, pre-dawn light filtering through the pale blue blinds and the feel of a hand resting on my head. I look up from my position at his side, my head resting on my arms on the bed next to his hip, and see the deep green eyes I love to look into.

"Bella," he whispers through dry lips and a scratchy throat. I smile up at him. "You're okay."

I nod. "So are you."

He looks down at himself and frowns. "Was I shot?" I nod again, a tear springing to my eye. His hand reaches out and catches it as it starts to make its way onto my cheek. "Don't cry, Sugar Lips. Everything will be okay." The irony of him reassuring me, after he was the one who took a bullet for me, brings more tears unbidden to my eyes.

"Are we okay?" he asks, and I know he's not talking about our physical condition.

I nod. "We will be," I reassure him. I know we need to talk. We have so much we both need to say. But it can wait. He looks so tired, and his words are slurred as he struggles to keep his eyes open.

But keep them open he does as he continues to look at me, and my position at the side of his bed, and a frown develops on his brow. "You can't be comfortable there." I shrug. "Come on," he beckons with his head for me to climb up, his arm opening to welcome me.

"I can't." I look at the tubes and wires coming from his hand farthest from me and the bandages covering his abdomen. "I'll hurt you."

He's eyes look heavy, and I know this conversation must be an effort for him. "I'll be more comfortable with you by my side. I'll sleep better knowing you're here, being able to hold you." His eyes are so pleading I can't deny him, and I stand to climb onto the bed. As I do I put a little too much weight on my bad leg, and he must see my grimace. "Your leg. Fuck, you were shot too!" His once droopy, tired eyes are now wide open, and he tries to sit up to help me.

"Just a flesh wound," I reassure him with a slightly forced smile. "It just stings a little when I put weight on it."

He looks me deep in the eye, as if trying to gauge the truth in my words. "Okay," he relents. "But climb up carefully."

I manage to turn and position my hip on the bed before I swing round, my good leg lying underneath me, and my bad leg positioned on top, slightly over his thigh, my shin running down the top of his leg. I tuck my head into his shoulder, and he wraps his arm around me, holding me close. Our breathing seems to match, and I'm reassured by the sound of his heart thumping hard and strong in my ear. The hospital gown he's wearing is a little rough, but my arm wraps around him, finding the soft skin at the back of his neck, and I fall into a deep sleep in the arms of the man I love.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry it took me a little longer than anticipated for get this out. All down to me as my fabulous checkers and correctors (Alice's White Rabbit and Robfansteinpire) got it back to be in great time. Not long to go now until we reach the end of this little tale. Sorry once again for not getting back to any reviews. I might manage it this chapter! They are always greatly appreciated and I read everyone and love you all for reading, reviewing and recommending me.**


	17. Chapter 17

**The Man in the Elevator - Chapter 17**

The next time I wake up, I'm slow to reach full consciousness. I feel so peaceful, and I cling to the vague memory of a dream I was just in. It's left me with more of a feeling than any concrete image. A feeling of security, contentment, and, most of all, happiness.

I'm aware of voices—one sharp, one soft. I smile at that one. There's a weight across my shoulders and a warmth I'm curled around. I snuggle closer, enjoying the feeling it's giving me, reveling in the smell that engulfs me as I breathe in deeply. I drift happily in that half-awake place.

But those pesky voices won't go away. What on earth could they have to say that's so important? Don't they know I'm happy here? I don't want to wake up. I focus on the angrier voice. I recognize it, but I'm not awake enough yet to name the owner.

"Bella might be willing to forgive you, Cullen. And I must confess, making a public declaration of your feelings, then risking your life to save her, taking a bullet in the process, does go some way to mitigate the total dick acts you pulled previously. But don't think I won't be watching you."

"I know. I was a dick. I admit it. It just took me a little while to catch on." The soft voice is close to my ear. He sounds sad. I don't want him to be sad.

"You were more than a dick," the annoyed voice replies then continues in a much more anguished tone. "You didn't see her, Edward. You really hurt her."

"What can I say, Rose? What can I do? How can I make you trust me?" Ahh, Rose. Rosalie. This conversation is starting to make sense. After I cried on Rosalie's shoulder the other day, she was bound to still feel a little animosity toward Edward. Oh, yes, Edward. That's the other voice. The body I'm wrapped around.

"It's not my trust you need to earn, Cullen. It's not me you need to seek forgiveness from." She's right. Do I totally forgive Edward for the way he hurt me? I think about letting them know I'm awake, but I'm not sure how to go about it.

"I know," says Edward, and the sorrow in his voice is so evident. "I really messed up, but hopefully now, we have a chance to speak without either of us running away." He's right too. I need to stop running. I need to face up to my own faults, as well as his.

I hear Rosalie give a chuckle. "Yeah, with your injuries, running isn't something either of you is going to be doing in a hurry."

I hear the door crash open, accompanied by a big booming voice. The intrusion makes me jump slightly, and the arm around me to tightens protectively, but I continue to keep my eyes closed. "Eddie, my man, how you doing? Oh! And the new girl." Emmett. He sounds surprised to find me here.

"Shhhh," I hear both Rosalie and Edward hiss, the vibration from Edward's lips tickling the top of my head. I relax back into his shoulder as his lips press gently to my hair.

"Sorry. Is she sleeping?" asks Emmett in a stage whisper, louder than most people's normal voices.

"She was, you doofus," says Rosalie's voice.

"Ouch, that hurt Rose," protests Emmett. I can only presume she's hit him. My lips involuntary turn up onto a small smile.

"Seriously though, Edward, how are you doing? What's the prognosis?" Emmett's voice sounds much more serious, and I can detect the obvious concern there.

"I've not seen the doctor yet, but the nurse was in earlier, and she said I was doing well, so read into that what you will. I mainly feel tired, and my muscles feel weak. The nurse said that's to be expected with my injuries and the blood loss. Apparently, it's my body's way of telling me to rest for a while. However, I may need you to pick up my laptop. If they plan to keep me in here for any length of time, I need to be able to communicate with my technical team, to make sure they're on track for our next release, and marketing is putting together a new proposal for the Shipson account that I'll need to review with them on Skype, then there is the Martin acquisition ..."

"Stop right there," says Rosalie. "All you need to do while you're lying in that bed is recover and talk to Bella. Everything else can wait. The company will not fall apart without you."

"Emmett ..." I hear him plea.

"Sorry, Ed, I'm with Rosie on this one. You need to learn to trust your teams and to delegate. You've lived and breathed that company for the last four years, but you've got a good woman in your life now, and you need to make time for her."

"That's if she'll have him."

"Of course, she'll have him. He took my advice, didn't he? The grand gesture never fails. And what bigger gesture is there than taking a bullet for your girl?"

I feel Edward yawn against my head, and his arm is starting to feel heavy around me. I realize this conversation, brief as it is, is wearing him out.

"You took relationship advice from this idiot?" I can only imagine Rosalie's raised eyebrow, but I've no doubt it's there. "Edward, I beg you, stop listening to him. Now! Or your relationship is doomed before it even starts." I can hear the exasperation, but also humor, in her voice as she speaks. They are interrupted in their banter by the door opening again.

"Good morning," says a female voice I don't recognize. I hear rustling and a few beeps. "Are you comfortable?" I feel Edward's head nod.

"Very." His voice is starting to take on that slurred edge of the very tired.

"Any pain?" asks the person I assume to be a nurse.

"No, I think the drugs are doing their job."

"Tired?" It seems she's noticed it too, but I feel him shrug.

"Well, the doctor will be in to see you in an hour or so, and I believe Dr. and Mrs. Cullen are coming in soon too, so I'd like you to see if you can get some sleep. Your body has been through a lot, and it needs the rest to recover."

"I guess that's our cue to leave," says Rosalie's voice.

"Thanks for visiting," says Edward, "and thanks for being there for Bella, both with the job and as a friend."

"You're welcome," I hear Rosalie say. "Let Bella know being kidnapped and shot are good excuses to take some time off work, so we don't expect her in the office anytime soon."

"I'll make sure she knows," Edward says, once again tightening his arm around me and pushing his lips to the top of my head.

Everyone says their goodbyes, then the room is quiet again, apart from the soft beep and hum of the machines.

I feel Edward sigh. "You can stop pretending to be asleep now," he says.

I open my eyes but don't move my head. I'm still comfortable here.

"How did you know?"

"Changes in your breathing, subtle reactions to what was being said. Besides, I know you, Bella." He sighs before continuing. "I need to apologize."

"It can wait," I say. "I heard the nurse; you need to rest."

"I need to say this more," he says in a tone I know well. It's the one he uses when there's no point in arguing with him.

"Okay," I relent, "but there really is no need."

"There is every need. I knew what we were doing was dangerous for you. But I still let you get involved. I was selfish because I wanted you, and that is unforgivable. Even when Jasper warned me they were trouble, I still let you carry on. And then I lead them straight to you. I should never have approached you in that bar or come to your work. I got you shot, Bella. You could have died, and it would have all been my fault. In my arrogance, I thought I could control things. And my arrogance almost killed you."

"But it didn't. You did keep me safe. I'm here. You're here. And we can now move forward."

"But, I came so close to losing you. I really don't think I could cope with losing you, Bella."

"Then why did you push me away, Edward? Why did you make me feel I meant so little to you?"

"That's the other thing I need to beg your forgiveness for. I could see you were developing feelings, but I thought I could control that too. I pushed my own feelings down. Ignored them, denied them. And I pushed you away, and I let you leave me. But once again, I was selfish. I couldn't just leave you to get on with your life. To be happy. Then, even after I realized how much you meant to me, I still failed to tell you, to show you. I was an idiot, and I'm sorry."

"I was convinced you still wanted to keep us a secret. When you brought a bag lunch to what I thought was going to be a date. You only seemed interested in sex. Not talking, like you'd said."

"I know. I knew we needed to talk. I really did want to try and have a proper relationship with you. But I missed you. Missed being with you. I also wasn't sure what you wanted. It's no excuse, but since the start, fuck, since I first set eyes on you, I've felt this draw to you. Even now. Having you this close. My body craves you. I've never felt anything like it. This pull. The strength of it. Originally, it was purely physical, and that side is still as strong as ever, but I now crave more. It's the whole of you I desire now. Your mind, your wit, your compassion, your intellect, your bravery, your determination, and, fuck yes, your body."

"You hurt me, Edward. At the start, I knew where I stood, but then you gave me hope, and I allowed myself to acknowledge my feelings for you. To let those feelings grow and take root. And then it felt like you pulled the rug out from under me. I knew your past. I knew loving again was going to be difficult for you, but you let me believe it was possible."

"Esme told you about Lisa?"

l nod.

"I thought that too, before. But to be honest, loving you is easy. It feels so right, so natural; now I'm allowing myself to feel. And I do love you, Bella, so much."

I glance up and see the tears glistening in his eyes, and I feel them prickle in mine too. It's all too much. I need him to know I feel the same. I need to show him. And I really need to kiss him.

So, I do. I'm sure I've taken him by surprise as it takes him a few moments to respond. But when he does, it's like magic. His lips softly mold to mine; his fingers run delicately through my hair. It's a gentle kiss. A slow, explorative kiss as we both learn and discover each other's love. But I can feel the barely contained passion behind it. The passion that could erupt the moment we let it. But here and now is not the place and time.

He pulls back, and I see him searching my eyes. I'm not sure what he's looking for, but he seems to find it as his mouth turns up into a heartwarming smile.

"I love you," I whisper, then his lips are on me again.

When we pull apart this time, he tucks me into his side, and we lie back down.

"What happens next?" he asks.

"Next," I say, "you recover."

"Okay, but as soon as I get out of here, I'm taking you on a proper date."

He drifted off soon after that. I laid in his arms, being comforted by the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Eventually, I must have drifted off myself as I woke to the sound of Esme's voice.

"Oh, Carlisle. Isn't that so lovely."

I lift my head. "I'm sorry, Bella. I didn't mean to wake you."

"That's okay, Esme. I was only dozing." Edward gives a little grunt and tightens his arm around me, pulling me back into the crook of his neck. Esme and I both giggle.

"I don't think he's willing to let you go just yet," she says in hushed tones.

"It's good to see you looking so well, Bella," says Carlisle. "Dr. Gerandy should be here soon. We may need to wake Edward. Did he have a good night?"

"He first woke a little before dawn." I make my best guess at when Edward convinced me to climb up next to him on the bed. "He was awake again about an hour ago when Rosalie and Emmett visited."

"I'm glad they came by. They said they were coming straight in when I called them this morning," confirms Esme. "Rosalie wasn't too tough on him, was she? I get the feeling he's not her favorite person at the moment."

I smile, remembering Rosalie's words to my Elevator Man. "I think she may be softening to him."

"Good, I don't like it when the kids fight."

I chuckle. I love the way Esme still refers to her son and his friends as kids, even though they are in their 30s.

"And how was Edward when he was awake?" asks Carlisle, obviously very much in doctor mode. "Was there much pain?"

"He said he felt fine, that the pain meds were working."

"And was there any swelling or tenderness?"

I have no idea what to tell him, but I'm saved from having to answer by a rough voice close to my ear. "You can stop talking about me. I'm right here."

"But you were sleeping," defends Carlisle.

"Well, now I'm awake, and you can ask me directly rather than interrogating my girlfriend."

Girlfriend? Is that what I am now? My eyes shoot to his, and I see him watching me intently. He smiles a half-smile my way and gently tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "That's if she'll accept the title." I nod my head. An almost overpowering urge to kiss him senseless sweeps over me, but I'm very aware of his parents next to us. My eyes drift down to his lips just as he licks them. I bite my lower lip, trying to control my desire. He shakes his head slightly, and he uses his thumb to pull my lip free. My eyes snap up to his as I remember what he has said in the past about how my lip biting affects him. His eyes reflect what I'm sure is written in mine—pure desire and sexual want.

We're both pulled out of our bubble and not a moment too soon, as things were about to get NSFW by the sound of Esme sighing, "Ahhhh."

I'm beginning to realize that woman's a hopeless romantic.

"Okay," says Carlisle, clearing his throat. "Any pain or discomfort? Any swelling?"

If what's just been going on between my legs is anything to go by, Edward may well be suffering from some embarrassing swelling. I suppress my urge to laugh and allow Edward to answer.

"I'm feeling a little discomfort now, but it's manageable," he confesses.

"Do you mind if I look," Carlisle asks, indicating toward Edward's abdomen.

"I'll just get out of your way," I say as I roll away from Edward to climb off the bed. As I do, I'm reminded how long it's been since I had any pain meds. I grit my teeth and freeze in place as the wave of pain, and the nausea it creates, washes over me. Before I even have time to regain my composure, Dr. Cullen is at my side.

"Fuck, Dad, is she okay," I hear Edward ask.

"When did you last take your meds?" Carlisle asks me.

"Last night," I confirm.

"You're probably due some antibiotics too?" he enquires, and I nod my head.

"Do you know where they are?"

"I think I left them in the bathroom."

"I'll get them," says Esme, rushing off.

Before I know it, several pills are placed into my hand. I swallow them after I'm handed a glass of water, and I take a big swig.

"They'll take a few minutes to kick in," warns Dr. Cullen. "Let me help you down."

I nod my agreement, and he slides one arm under my legs and the other round my back. I wince slightly as he lifts me, but the pain is minimal compared to when I tried to move myself.

"Be careful," warns Edward, the distress evident in his voice.

Dr. Cullen just looks at me and rolls his eyes. He and I both know he's being as gentle as possible. He places me in the chair next to Edward's bed. The one I spent the majority of the night in. I can't say I'm happy to be back here, much preferring my position at Edward's side, but I feel a little better when he reaches out and takes my hand.

I look up at his worried face that quickly contorts to pain.

"Dad," he hisses, and we both look at Carlisle, who is pressing gently on his abdomen.

"So, a little tenderness?" the older Cullen asks with a mischievous smile.

"A little," confirms Edward through gritted teeth.

"Do you mind if I look at the wound?" he asks.

"Knock yourself out," Edward says grumpily. "I know you won't be happy until you've thoroughly poked and prodded me."

Carlisle chuckles as he pulls down the blankets to lay them across Edward's hips. "He was always the same as a boy. A very reluctant patient." He winks at me as he pulls up the hospital gown to reveal Edward's stomach, and I draw in a sharp breath as I look over the scene. Edward's toned abdominal muscles are black and blue with bruising. There's a small wound just to the right of his belly button and another longer row of stitches lower down on his hip. I can see more bruising as I look farther up, toward his chest. I feel Esme fall into the seat next to me, and I reach out and take her hand. She squeezes mine back tightly.

"Nice stitching," mutters Carlisle. "Very neat. With any luck, you won't have much of a scar to show off." He then pulls the gown up farther, and I make out a rectangular mark, that I guess came from the defibrillator, and more bruising on his sternum as well as what looks like a burn near his shoulder.

"They had to resuscitation you three times—twice in the ambulance, and once here in the ER," states Dr. Cullen, looking up at his son gravely. "We're lucky to still have you, so excuse your mother if she fussed over you for a while. It's just her way of letting you know she cares."

I give Esme's hand another squeeze. I think we'll both be fussing over him for a while.

The door opens, drawing our attention.

"Stealing my patient already, Carlisle?" says the white-haired doctor who has entered. I recognize him straight away from the previous evening.

"Not at all, Jim. Just admiring your handwork."

"Good morning, Edward," greets the doctor. "I'm glad to see you awake and looking so well." He turns back to Carlisle. "The back wound was a little messier, but we made the repair as neat as possible. Edward, do you mind if I roll you on your side?"

Edward gives his assent, and the doctor rolls him to face toward us, sparing further views of the rest of his battered body. "As you can see, the back is a little less bruised than the front," explains Dr. Gerandy, "but the wound is larger and not as neat. It will take a little longer to heal."

"It all looks clear, no sign of infection," says Carlisle, peering closely at the bullet exit site.

"I've put him on some fairly aggressive antibiotics, just as a precaution really."

Carlisle nods his head. "When do you think he'll be able to go home?"

"That's depends. He'll need care for awhile. He won't be able to bend or lift things. If he has someone who can stay with him then I'll be happy to discharge him in the next 48 hours, given there are no signs of infection."

"Of course, he'll come to us," says Esme. "I'll look after him."

"Excuse me? I'm _still_ right here. When you're quite finished discussing my care and where I'm going to be staying when released perhaps someone would actually like to address me. I'll have you know, I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself."

"Don't be grumpy, Edward, and accept help when it's offered. You don't have to do everything alone," admonishes his mother, giving him that look I remember so well from my own mother when she was alive. The one that brokers no argument. For a moment, I see the young boy he once was as he looks down from her gaze, clearly not willing to answer his mother back. I stifle a smile, and he catches me out of the corner of his eye and narrows them at me. Oh dear. I think I may be in trouble.

Esme and Carlisle leave soon after, and there doesn't seem to be any question that I'm not staying. Edward is still tired, and he soon falls asleep after having convinced me to climb back up on the bed with him. I, however, can't sleep as I go over all that has transpired over the last day or so. Despite what Edward has said, I'm still not entirely sure things are going to be smooth sailing between us going forward. There's bound to be a period of adjustment as we move to our new understanding of our relationship. I also worry over what's happening with James and Victoria. Are we really safe from them now? Is Caius really dead? Will I need to testify against them in an attempted kidnapping and murder trial?

It turns out I'm to get some answers later that day when we get a visit from Agent Whitlock and his colleague, Agent Peters. Edward's been sleeping since his parents left, waking briefly for a lunch of clear broth. With the damage he sustained to his intestines, he's going to be on a restricted diet for awhile.

It's strange seeing Jasper again. I feel close to him. He helped me through a difficult time, and he's seen me with all my emotions laid bare, but I still hardly know him. Edward greets him like an old friend, and the two shake hands.

"Thank you so much for coming to our rescue." Edward beams at the federal agent.

"It's all part of the job," Jasper replies with a smile in my direction. "Although, you didn't make things easy for us." He looks at Edward, his face solemn and severe. "I told you not to confront him. I told you we thought he could be dangerous."

Edward holds his stare. "And if I hadn't, if I hadn't delayed him, if I hadn't left my phone on so you could trace them, then they may well have gotten away with Bella."

"Hmm, you may be right, but it was still a stupid, reckless move."

"And I'd do the same again in a heartbeat."

"Well, thankfully, you won't have to. Caius won't be threatening anyone ever again. I shouldn't say it, but that's one less scumbag this world has to deal with."

"He's dead? How? Did you take him down?" I realize with Edward passed out after being shot, he has no idea what else went down in the alley.

"He ran. I told him to stop, to show me his hands. He didn't. I shot him. He died." Jasper is very matter of fact, and I wonder how many people he's had to shoot in the line of his work.

"And what about the other two? That psycho Victoria put a bullet in Bella's leg for no reason."

"Don't forgot, she shot you too," I add on.

"She and James are being held on various charges including, but not limited to, attempted kidnapping, violations in their parole stipulations—including firearms charges, and actual bodily harm to the two of you. There were no cameras in the alley, but Victoria was a little high when we arrested them, so her filters were off. We have a full confession, and that coupled with the statements you two are about to give us, and our assessment of the scene after we arrived, should lead to a very successful conviction and an extremely lengthy prison term. I don't think you need to fear anything from those two again."

As he speaks, I let myself relax. It feels as if a weight is bring lifted from my shoulders. I look at Edward, who has an equally relieved expression on his face. He turns to me.

"I'll never let anyone hurt you again, Sugar Lips." I smile back at the use of his nickname for me. I know this may not be a promise he can always keep, but it feels good to have someone willing to try and protect me.

We both proceed to give our accounts of the evening, and I bring up my suspicion that Victoria has been following me for awhile. Edward holds me close as I continue to give my account, his body visibly stiffening as I explain the way James grabbed me and threatened me at the gala, and he gently strokes my arm and kisses the top of my head as I explain my reaction to him being shot.

Most of Edward's story is new to me. He explains how he'd looked up during his heartfelt speech to see Caius at the back of the ballroom, watching me. He explains his thought process in following him. How he was convinced Volturi was there to do me harm, and he just had to stop him, to keep him busy until Jasper arrived. I know Edward isn't one to let others deal with his problems. He's also not the most patient man and likes to deal with issues the minute they raise their head, so I understood exactly why he charged out of the room after the man. I didn't agree with it, but I knew, for him, he would fail to see another way. His whole mind would be focused on solving the problem. I'm just glad he had the forethought to contact Jasper and let him know what was going on.

He explained how he got Jasper on the phone and told him where to find them then left his phone on as he confronted Caius in the alley. He explains that he had no idea James and Victoria were also hanging around and how he thought I'd be perfectly safe in the ballroom with his parents, not imagining for one moment I'd be on my own at any point. He also failed to realize how desperate they were, thinking Caius to ultimately be a coward.

At the end of Edward's account, Jasper and Agent Peters thank us for our detailed reports and leave us in peace.

"Do you want to talk about it further?" asks Edward, pulling me close after they leave. I know the last few hours will have worn him out, and to be honest, I have no desire to go over the event of that evening ever again. But there are a few things I need to get off my chest.

"You should have just left him to the professionals. They're trained to deal with these situations. You're not. And you nearly got yourself killed." My eyes well up, and I duck my head until I feel Edward's fingers under my jaw, pushing my gaze back up to meet his.

"And how would anyone have known where James and Victoria had taken you if I hadn't?" he asks. "I know the outcome could have been better, but it could also have been a whole lot worse. For you. And that would have been totally unacceptable."

I see his eyes are shimmering, and I no longer know whether to be cross with him for confronting Caius without adequate backup or to love him for doing it and potentially saving me from being kidnapped, or worse. In the end, I go for a middle ground.

"Just don't ever put yourself in that position again," I say, putting on the sternest face I can manage.

"I won't," he replies with a smirk. "As long as you promise not to go getting yourself kidnapped at gunpoint again."

"I'm serious," I say, desperate for him to know how worried I was. His smirk drops.

"As am I." His forehead drops to mine, and he takes in and lets out a deep breath. "I'll tell you what," he continues, "let's both agree not to get ourselves into any life or death situations if we can at all help it. Deal?"

I smile slightly. "Deal."

~TMITE ~

The nurses tried to convince me to leave that night, but Edward was having none of it, insisting he'll discharge himself there and then if I'm not allowed to stay. I can understand him wanting to keep me close, and I'm happy to stay close to him, but I know that soon he is going to be discharged into the loving hands of his mother, and I'm going to have to go back to my flat, back to my life and back to work. Work that is now no longer in Edward's company. I know Rosalie told Edward I could take some time off, but I don't like to take advantage, and besides, it's a new job, a new role. I'm enjoying getting my teeth into it. I don't like the idea of the projects I've started work on being put on hold or someone else having to take up the slack.

With uncertain thoughts of the future swirling around in my head, it takes me a little while to drop off that night despite the warm arm of Edward around my shoulder and the gentle rocking of his chest as it rises and falls in time with his breaths. When I do eventually fall asleep, his proximity must be having an effect on me as I find myself slap bang in the middle of the most erotic dream I've ever had. My Elevator Man has me pinned to the bed and is letting me know with his words and his actions just what he wants to do to me. My body is trembling with desire as I reach out for him, running my hand across his stubbly jaw, down his long neck, and onto his well-toned chest. I play with the smattering of hairs there before letting my hand drift farther south. I feel his breath hitch as I traced out his contoured abs.

"Touch me," I whisper, and I'm rewarded with a guttural growl that I feel right between my legs.

"Fuck, Bella. You're killing me here," I hear him say, and I flex my hips against him, letting him know exactly where I want his touch. I'm desperate to feel him, to give myself up to him again. It's been far too long since I last had his hands on me. My body feels on fire as my dream-man lets his fingers ghost over my ribs, so close to my breast but not close enough. Even in my dream, there's a small worry at the back of my mind. I know there's a reason we shouldn't be doing this, but I want him so badly. I need this release, a release only he can give me. And I want to make him feel good too. I want to show him exactly what he means to me, what he does to me, how only he can make me feel.

His fingers grip my arm but are still. "Fuck, Sugar Lips. If only you were awake. I'd make you feel so good. Please, wake up. Let me show you how good I can make you feel."

I open my eyes to Edward's dark seductive ones. I look down at my body, pressed up against him, my leg thrown over his, my hips, even now, rubbing against his pelvis. I'm panting into his neck; my hand is lying flat against his exposed chest.

"Good dream?" He smirks at me, but I'm too turned on to stop. I know I shouldn't. He's been shot. He can't move without hurting himself, but I want him so badly.

"You were just about to touch me," I whisper.

"Well, that's easily put right." He reaches down and hitches my leg higher over his body. I look up in alarm.

"Your stitches?"

"Shhh, let me worry about them. You just enjoy the ride."

And with that, his long fingers find their target. His hand snakes over my hip, and he allows his fingers to run the full length of my slit. My head rolls back, and I let out a moan. I'm still so aroused from the dream that I'm in danger of coming with just the slightest of pressure.

"That really must have been a good dream; you are so wet, Bella. I wish I could fuck you now. I'd take you so hard I'd make you scream in ecstasy. But I don't think my body's up for it yet. Besides, I swore to myself I'd not take you again until we've been on a proper date."

As he talks, he slides his fingers deep inside me and begins to move them, agonizingly slowly, in and out.

I can barely speak, but I try to gain some control.

"You think I'm the sort of girl who gives out after one date, Mr. Cullen? You may find you have to work harder than that."

I know my current position, and our past experience, probably speaks more about his ability to seduce his way into my pants after one date than any protests I utter about waiting longer, but a girl can tease.

"Fuck, Bella. Say that again. Call me Mr. Cullen again."

"Mr. Cullen."

He literally growls, and it sends shivers down my spine. I'm so on the edge, ready to topple with the slightest push and push he does. His lips are on mine, pulling, sucking, biting, and licking. His fingers are no longer controlled, now they're going for the goal. The teasing is over. And I shatter, his mouth consuming my cries as I tense and spasm around his talented fingers. It takes me a while to come down from my high, and when I do, a complete feeling of utter relaxation sweeps over me. I look up at him, smiling wistfully, and I see him looking down at me with a cocky grin on his face.

"So, did the reality live up to your dream Elevator Man?" he asks.

I briefly acknowledge to myself that I don't think I've ever let him know I call him that. Shit, I must have been talking in my sleep. Oh, well. It led to a great orgasm. All courtesy of my Elevator Man.

"You always exceed my dreams," I tell him. And his smile gets impossibly wider.

"Sleep now, my Sugar Lips. Tomorrow, you can play hard to get."

I chuckle as he tucks me back under his arm, holding me close. My last thoughts before sleep engulfs me are hopes he's back to full strength soon.

* * *

 **AN: So sorry for the delay. New job, New Year. Hope you are all well and all still with me. At least it was a long one! Will see you in a couple weeks, should be able to get a chapter of The Girl with the Sugar Lips up soon too (for those who what to get Edward's POV on this story).**

 **See you soon. MT**


	18. Chapter 18

**The Man in the Elevator - Chapter 18**

Edward is discharged the next day. It's just as well. I'm desperately in need of a change of clothes. I've been wearing the sweats Carlisle gave me for two days now. Non-stop. It's a wonder Edward can bear to be near me. But then, I suppose, with our close proximity, I smell as much of him as I do of me.

Esme and Carlisle insist on driving me home on their way back to their place with Edward, and I allow them, even though I know it's out of their way. Edward and I sit in the back of their car, holding hands. It feels strange to know I'll soon be apart from him. He seems equally upset at the idea. Or it could just be annoyance over his mother's fussing. He's tried to convince her he'll be fine on his own, even trying to get me to take his side, but she was having none of it. Neither were the doctors, who insisted he needed care, so it was either a longer stay in the hospital or his mothers. For a moment, I felt like offering my services as caregiver but I couldn't really take advantage of Rosalie and Emmett's good nature for too much longer. I'd only just started my new job, and I was keen to get back to it. In contrast, Esme ran her own business. Being your own boss has certain perks, like being able to take all the time off you like at the drop of a hat. So, being home with Edward for the next few weeks won't be an issue for Esme. Besides, when she needs a break, she has Carlisle, and judging by the moody way Edward is acting, I feel she'll need a break sooner rather than later.

He's staring out the window, and I wonder what he thinks of my neighborhood. It's probably nowhere near as affluent as his, and it's certainly a step down from Esme's leafy piece of suburbia, but I like it. It's clean and has all the amenities I could need within one or two blocks, including the best Indian take-out in the city and a corner shop conveniently located at the bottom of my

block of apartments. It's one of those stores that stocks everything from light bulbs to Ben and Jerry's and is open all hours. It's also a friendly neighborhood were people look out for each other. If Mrs. Jones from number three hasn't been in for her milk one morning, Mr. Bradley, the storeowner, will mention it to Mrs. Cooper from two flats down, who will knock and check she's all right and hasn't taken another fall. If Jill Anderson, from the apartments across the road, is spotted having an argument with her boyfriend and the next day she has a black eye to rival a pro-boxer, Philip Scott, who owns a gym two blocks over, is likely to be found waiting outside her door the next time the boyfriend comes to visit. Like I said, we look out for each other.

"I'm going to miss you," I hear him mutter, sulkily, into my ear as the car draws up outside my block.

"I'll visit," I promise as I turn and look at him.

"And as soon as my jailers let me out, I'm taking you on that date."

I smile, knowing it's still going to be a while. He can't eat solid food yet, everything must be easily digestible, and walking any sort of distance is something he's going to have to work up to.

"Be good to you mother. She's only trying to help," I warn him as Carlisle comes around to open my door.

"Humph." He pouts. I can't resist; I kiss his pouting lips and laugh.

"Good luck, Esme," I call to my friend in the passenger seat.

"Oh, don't you worry about me, dear. I'm used to him." She smiles back at me. "If you need anything, give me a call. You know the offer is still open, if you want to come and stay for a while. I don't mind playing nursemaid to two patients."

We've already had this conversation, several times, with Edward and her both ganging up on me with varying persuasion tactics. I admit, it was tempting, but I need to get back to my life, and it isn't as if I can't care for myself. Besides, Edward and I have agreed to do things the right way around this time, and living in the same house is certainly not taking things slow. I need space away from him and from the overpowering attraction I feel toward him.

"I'll be fine, Esme. If I need anything, I'll call."

"You'd better," grumbles Edward beside me.

"I'll text you later," I promise as I cautiously swing my legs out of the car, being careful not to bang the damaged one. Carlisle is waiting to help me up, offering me the crutches he's procured for me at the hospital, making sure I'm secure on them before letting me go.

"I can come up and help you get settled," calls Edward, leaning over slightly toward my side of the car.

"No, you can't," I say firmly. "You can barely walk three steps, let alone climb two flights of stairs." Besides, the first time Edward sees my flat, and potentially my bedroom, I don't want it to be with his parents in tow.

"I'll see you to your door," says Carlisle with a smile as Edward sits back and sulks, his arms crossed firmly over his chest and his eyebrows drawn together in a deep frown.

Carlisle helps me as little as possible as we navigate the stairs to my third story flat, obviously aware I'm going to have to manage this on my own in the future. Once he has seen me positioned comfortably on the sofa in my small sitting room attached to the kitchen, and after checking I don't need him to fetch anything, he reiterates Edward and Esme's wish for me to call if I need any help whatsoever and then leaves me to it.

The first thing I do, after being left alone, is to pull out my phone from my bag. Dead. Just as it's been all the time I've been at the hospital. I plug it in and turn it on. It angrily buzzes at me and lights up with what appears to be a million text and voice mail messages. I see several from Alice and Angela and a couple from my dad. I realize guiltily they must all be worried about me, especially since I've not been in touch with anyone since the gala.

I decide to tackle Angela first. The first few are happy enough, asking excitedly about the gala, but then rapidly take on a more anxious tone before descending into almost frantic despair as she mentions hearing about a shooting at the hotel where the gala was held. The very latest ones are a little calmer, but with an angry edge, her frustration in my lack of communication coming through. She lets me know she has spoken to Alice, who has talked with Rosalie, and been filled in on the current situation. She still implores me to call as soon as I'm able.

I feel bad. I should have known she'd be worried, but I got so caught up in me and Edward. I phone her quickly to let her know I'm okay and now home. I wait calmly as she calls me out on leaving her worrying for so long, letting her get her anger, frustration, and fear out. Then she volunteers to come around, and I accept eagerly. We have a lot to catch up on.

Half an hour later, she's standing on my doorstep, groceries in hand. We spend the evening with her grilling me on the whole event and swooning over Edward. It would appear she thinks declaring your love in public then taking a bullet for a girl is romantic. It's late when I finally get to bed yet I don't sleep well. I'm too used to my Edward-shaped pillow. I text him around 3 a.m., complaining that I miss him.

His reply is quick. He must be awake too. I wonder if his pain is bothering him, stopping him from sleeping.

 **I miss you too. - E**

 **You should be sleeping. I hope you're okay. You're not in any pain, are you? - B**

 **So should you. No pain. Dad's keeping the drugs up. It's just not the same without you here. I think you've spoiled me the last two nights. – E**

I don't know what to say to him. I want to be with him so much, but I know it's too soon. We're in danger of going from zero to ninety in the time it takes to say, "Codependent relationship."

It seems I'm a little slow replying, and my phone pings with another incoming message.

 **You know we'd both sleep much better if you were here. And it would make my mother immeasurably happy. Everybody wins. - E**

Except my independence.

 **We both know if I come over now I may never leave. - B**

 **And your problem is? - E**

At that moment, I'm having an increasingly hard time remembering why it would be a bad idea. I'm slow in replying again as I try to get my thoughts in order and read his next message.

 **I could tie you to the bed and keep you as my sex slave. - E**

I laugh. But he's fingers are writing checks his body can't cash.

 **From the way the doctors were talking, you won't be making anyone your sex slave for quite some time, Mr. Cullen. - B**

 **The only one I'm interested in being my sex slave is you, Bella, and I'm willing to wait. - E**

Once again, he continues before I can get a reply off, his texts coming in on the back of each other.

 **I understand why you need your space, and I know we shouldn't rush things. We need to give ourselves time to get used to this new relationship.**

 **But it doesn't mean I have to like it.**

 **But please promise you'll wait for me and be patient with me. I'm a little rusty at this relationship thing.**

 **But I do really want to make it work with you, Bella.**

I sigh and type out my reply.

 **If we keep communicating, I think we'll be all right. And I'm willing to wait as long as it takes. It just means we'll have plenty of time to get to know each other properly.**

He takes a little while to reply, and I start to wonder if he's gone to sleep.

 **What makes you think we don't know each other?**

 **Well, the fact our relationship to date has been about sex only might be a small clue.**

Again, his reply is slow in coming, but when it does come, it breaks my heart.

 **I know you have a wicked sweet tooth, and your favorite donut is the cream-filled chocolate one. I also know you're one of the most generous people I've ever met because you always let me have that one because you know it's also my favorite. I know you love to read, and it's the only time you allow yourself to cry. I know you view yourself as a realist but secretly hide a romantic core, but you're too afraid to allow yourself to believe in forever. I know you love your mother and father dearly, and your biggest wish is to have had more time with your mom. I know you're ridiculously ambitious but not at the expense of your ethics, which is one of the foremost things I admire in you. I know that one day, with your amazingly insightful intelligence and your will to succeed, you're going to be a business force to reckon with. And lastly, I know I love you with all my heart, not just for the things you can do to my body, for the way you physically respond to me, and I, in turn, find I can't keep my hands off you, but for your mind and your heart, that I feel I know so well yet also look forward to discovering more about every day.**

I contemplate his words. He's right. He does know me. Somehow over the time, we've been together, without realizing I was doing it, I've allowed myself to reveal things, to open up to him, to show him the real me, and he's seen me, warts and all. And I've seen him too. Yes, we still have lots to learn. Does he pick his toenails or scratch his balls when watching the TV? Does he leave his socks all over the floor? What's he like first thing in the morning? Does he own any clothes other than suits? Can he accept defeat in a game of monopoly?

I can't imagine him doing either of the first two things, but you never know, and I'm going to have fun finding out the answers to all my questions.

I send off a quick two-word reply before putting my phone down and finally finding sleep.

 **Thank you.**

~~TMITE~

I was all ready to navigate the bus to work the first morning home, but as I was getting ready to leave, I received a text message that my car was waiting outside. Edward had arranged for me to use his car and driver until my leg was better. I phoned him, protesting it wasn't needed, but he insisting, pointing out he wasn't going to be using them as he was laid up. So now, I'm being chauffer driven around.

But I like Sam.

He doesn't say much, but when he does, he reveals a dry sense of humor and a fiercely protective nature.

This weekend Charlie arrives. I'd called him after getting out of the hospital and brought him up to speed on what had been happening. To say he wasn't happy about me being shot was an understatement, and he insisted on visiting. It was only down to my most determined persuasion skills that I managed to hold him off until the weekend, wanting to give Edward a little more time to recover.

Sue is accompanying him, keen to offer me any help I need. She arrives bearing several home-cooked meals that I load into the freezer alongside the ones Esme has kindly bestowed upon me, despite me eating at their place every night this week while visiting Edward. I'm not going to have to cook for at least a month at this rate.

"So, when do we get to meet this man of yours?" asks Charlie within minutes of his arrival. He's been bristling since I said hello, but he's not one to beat around the bush.

"Tomorrow," I tell him. "Esme has invited us over for lunch."

"Esme? Isn't she the lady you were doing your charity work with?" So it would appear my father does pay attention to some of the things I tell him.

"She is indeed. She also happens to be Edward's mom."

"Oh, that's lovely," pipes in Sue. "So, you and his mother are already friends? So nice to get on with the mother. So often they can resent the special woman in their little boy's life. Harry's mom was always … How should I put it? Difficult."

"That's being diplomatic," adds in Charlie. "That woman found fault with everything. I remember Harry and I came back from fishing once and we found her in the den, up on a chair, looking for dust on top of the picture frames."

I think about Esme's response to me and Edward being together. There is certainly no resentment there. She has appeared nothing but over the moon. "She's a great lady, Sue. I think you and Esme will get on so well."

"I'm sure we will," Sue agrees, patting my hand.

"It's not the mother I'm concerned about," interjects Charlie. "Now, Bells, tell me again everything that's been going on."

I once again take him through the work I did for Edward in catching those responsible for stealing from him. I obviously gloss over our relationship. He doesn't need to know those meetings also involved hot, steamy sex as well as data analysis. He's not particularly happy I put myself in harm's way, but he understands I needed to do the right thing, and letting criminals walk is against everything he believes in, so, although it's a little begrudging, he tells me he's proud of me.

I then talk him through the events of the gala. He seethes as I describe how James and Victoria abducted me at gunpoint. He's clearly not happy with how Edward handled Caius and the whole situation in the alley. I know his training may have led him to act differently, but Edward and I aren't trained and emotions were running high.

"I've arranged to talk to this federal agent tomorrow morning," he informs me.

"Who? Jasper?"

"That's right, Agent Jasper Whitlock. I need to know he's doing all he can to keep them locked up and to keep you safe from now on. He let you down. This Edward let you down. I need to know that won't happen again."

"Dad! They did all they could. I don't want you blaming Edward, or Jasper, for this. They kept me safe."

"Bella, you were shot. Your boss was nearly killed. I don't think that's keeping you safe." He sounds cross, but I've had enough.

"And none of that's Edward's fault. If you want to blame someone, then blame the real people responsible. Caius, James, and Victoria. They're bad people, Dad, and they did bad things. No one made them steal from Edward, no one made them come after me, and no one made them shoot me and Edward."

"She's right, Charlie," says Sue, putting her hand on Charlie's thigh reassuringly while looking him in the eye.

"So, you're taking her side, are you?"

"There are no sides, Charlie. Your daughter was nearly taken from us, but thankfully, this Edward and Agent Jasper were there, and they prevented it being worse for her. Yes, I agree. It shouldn't have happened, and perhaps in hindsight, everyone would have done things differently, but you can't predict the actions of criminals; you've said this time and time yourself. You can only act within the law and on the best information you have at the time. I'm sure if Edward had known what they were capable of, he'd have warned Bella and perhaps acted differently, but he didn't. Let's just be thankful it wasn't worse."

"I'm still meeting him. I still need to know what steps they're now taking."

"That's fine," I say. "Just, please, don't go off on Edward; he's feeling bad enough as it is."

"I'm not promising anything in that regard." He huffs, and I know it's all I'm going to get for now.

"Anyway," says Sue brightly, clearly changing the subject, "there was another reason we wanted to come and visit you this weekend." She looks pointedly at Charlie.

"Oh, yes," he replies, sounding flustered. "Um, Bella, you know Sue and I have been good friends for a while now."

"More than friends, if Thanksgiving is anything to go by," I tease, smiling at Sue, who returns the gesture.

"Yes, well," says my father, clearly flustered over this conversation as he smooths down his mustache. I think I know where this is going, but I'm not going to help him out, especially after the over-protective routine he just pulled on me. "Well, Sue has come to be very special to me." He looks up at her and reaches for her hand as they smile at each other. I remember how he used to look at my mother like that, and it both breaks my heart and gives it so much hope and joy. I briefly wonder at the conflicting emotions, but then decide to just go with it. I'll always miss my mom, and I'm sure Dad will too, but I like Sue, and Dad clearly loves her, and if she makes him half as happy as Edward makes me then I'm happy for them both.

"And the long and short of it is," continues Charlie, "well, last weekend, I kind of asked Sue to marry me, and she graciously said yes."

Sue turns to me, the happiness clearly evident on her face, but it's tempered somewhat with trepidation. I realize she's concerned about my reaction, but I'm quick to set her mind at ease.

"Congratulation." I jump up and pull her into an embrace. She returns it tightly.

"Thank you, Bella."

"So, show me the ring," I say pulling back, and she beams as she presents her left hand for inspection. It's a beautiful single solitaire diamond on a platinum band.

"I didn't want anything too showy," she says.

"It's perfect," I reply, pulling her in for another hug. "Well done, Dad. You have my approval and blessing." I return to my seat and look at Charlie. "And that, Dad, is how you react when a member of your family tells you they're engaged."

His face goes white. "Don't tell me you're getting married. You've only just gotten out of college. It's this Edward guy, isn't it? You've only known him for five minutes, Isabella. Please tell me you're not engaged."

I burst out laughing. "No, I'm not engaged, but when someone does eventually ask me, then I hope you react more like I did and not like that. That was a prime example of how not to react."

"Well, perhaps if I get a little more warning, at least get to meet the guy before you spring something like that on me, I might be able to react a little better. It would also be nice for him to do the honorable thing and ask me for your hand."

"Ask you for my hand? Come on, Charlie, what century are you living in? But I promise you will meet any man I plan on marrying before I accept any offers of marriage."

I get up to go to the kitchen. "So, the plan is for you to meet Edward tomorrow. I take it I can let him know you give him a green light to pop the question on Monday?"

I'm totally teasing him. And I'm rewarded with his sharp inhalation of breath followed by a warning, "Isabella," in that tone he uses when I'm in trouble. I laugh, to let him know it's only a joke. There is no way Edward would ask me to marry him, or that I'd accept at the moment. I'm very much aware this is early days for the two of us. We've not even been on a date yet, so I have no notions of us getting married. Well, maybe in a few distant daydreams, but doesn't every girl when she's in love? But obviously, that would not be something I'd want to do for a long time yet. As Dad said, I'm just starting out in the world, and Edward knows that. Doesn't he?

* * *

 **AN: So, how do you think the meeting between Edward and Charlie will go? How long will it be before they can get out on their date? Will they both explode from sexual tension before they can get there?**

 **Next chapter should hopefully be up soon. And another chapter of The Girl with the Sugar Lips (the EPOV sister story, for those who don't know) is with my beta. Talking of which; super thanks once again to Alice's White Rabbit. She finds all those missing commas and contractions and helps me find American words for my British!**


	19. Chapter 19

**The Man in the Elevator – Chapter 19**

"Bella, so good to see you again." Esme greets me with a hug, as if we've not seen each other in weeks; when the truth is, I've been around her house every evening this week, visiting with Edward. "And this must be your father." She turns to Charlie, putting out her hand to shake his as she does. "Welcome, Chief Swan, I'm Esme Cullen. It's such a pleasure to meet you. You must be so proud of Bella."

I can tell Dad's a little taken aback by the enthusiasm of this total stranger, but I don't fail to notice the squaring of his shoulders and the slight puffing of his chest when she mentions me. I do believe he may be proud.

"Please, call me Charlie," he tells her.

"And you must be Sue. I hear congratulations are in order." Esme pulls Sue in for a brief hug. "Now, you must tell me all about how he proposed. My Carlisle did his best to be romantic when he popped the question, but it all went a little wrong for him, I'm afraid, but I'm sure Chief Swan did much better. But first, come in, sit down, and let me get you all a drink."

As she talks she bustles us into her home and through to the sitting room, Charlie helping me maneuver my crutches over the step. Esme and Carlisle's house is quite a bit bigger than the house in Forks I grew up in, the house where Charlie still lives to this day. The decor is also a little more thought out, with the furniture matching the paint scheme and the accessories. I grew up in a more thrown together home, the sofa purchased with only comfort in mind, especially Charlie's recliner, rather than a color scheme, and accessories all having a purpose as opposed to an aesthetic. Charlie isn't one for unnecessary cushions. But Esme's house is still homely; it still has a lived in feel to it. Sue looks round, taking it all in, and I'm wondering if she has ideas for modifications she'd like to make to Charlie's place, now it will be officially hers too. I can't help but think it will only benefit from a woman's touch. Charlie is sitting very upright, and I know he's not relaxed. He's here to meet Edward, and he's keeping the Chief Swan persona going until that happens.

Esme leaves us for a few minutes to check on the food but soon comes back in with a tray holding a pitcher of lemonade and several glasses.

"Carlisle is just seeing to the patient," she beams at us before looking at me and continuing in a conspiratorial manner. "He had a bit of a bad night. We tried some more solid food yesterday evening, and I think his system reacted badly after such a long absence. He was up half the night throwing up, and Carlisle was worried he'd pull his stiches."

"He's okay though?" I ask anxiously.

"Oh, he'll be fine. Carlisle says it's perfectly normal; it just takes a while for his body to get back to accepting regular food, but he'll get there. They should both be down in a moment."

Edward has been getting up and moving around a few times a day as the movement helps his recovery, but I know the exercise soon tires him. He's been getting very frustrated with what he considers his body's slow recovery, even though his father insists he is recovering better than most. He hates to show any weakness. I know he was keen to be at his best today and to join us for lunch, so I know the setback last night is likely to put him in a foul mood.

As we make small talk, with Esme grilling Sue on all her plans for the wedding, I hear a commotion on the stairs. I rise as Edward and Carlisle enter the room, beaming at my man. He's dressed today, having lived mainly in pajamas for the past week, and he looks good. He's obviously shaved and tried to tame his hair. I'm used to seeing him in suits, a look I love, but today he's dressed more casually, in sweats and T-shirt, but the look reminds me of seeing him after working out. It's a look I like.

He smiles briefly at me before looking toward my Dad.

"Chief Swan," he greets, walking confidently toward my father, his hand held out in greeting. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Bella speaks very fondly of you."

"She does?" asks Charlie, looking Edward in the eye before taking his hand. I can see the handshake is firm, but Edward, obviously used to power struggles in meetings, holds his own.

Edward turns to Sue with a smile, "And you must be Sue. Again, it's a pleasure to meet you both." He takes her hand, more softly I notice, then moves back to stand at my side. "I do apologise for my casual attire, but my physician insists I not put too much pressure on my wound, and so my slacks were, apparently, out of the question. Hence the more casual attire."

"Oh, no apology necessary," says Sue with a wave of her hand. "Besides, you're at home, you should be comfortable."

"Sit, sit," instructs Esme as she starts to pour the lemonade. Edward takes the seat next to me on the sofa yet leaves a polite space between us. Charlie and Sue take up position next to each other on the loveseat, and Esme and Carlisle each take one of the remaining two single seats.

When Esme hands Edward his drink, he looks at it as if it might poison him. I guess the vomiting is troubling him.

"You need to get sugary fluids down, Edward," says Carlisle. "Last night was a reaction to the solid food. You should be okay with the lemonade."

Edward looks toward Sue and my father. "It looks as though I won't be helping you eat the lovely meal my mother has prepared, as I'm back on the liquid diet, but the smells as I passed the kitchen were divine, so you're in for a treat. If I'm not mistaken, Mom, that's your pot roast?"

"It is indeed," Esme replies.

As Edward speaks, he appears completely confident, and you can see the professional businessman in him, the man who can win over a room of other testosterone-driven top players and seal the multimillion-dollar deal to his advantage. But I also know his tells. His fingers twitch every now and then, and he has on at least two occasions run them through his hair. I know it would be more, if he wasn't aware of the action, hence the twitching fingers. He's nervous about meeting my father. He knows this man raised me, and he knows I love him and respect his opinion. My Elevator Man is keen to make a good impression. Which is why the next topic doesn't surprise me.

"Bella tells me you're a keen fisherman, Chief Swan."

"That's right," says Charlie, his mustache bristling slightly, and I hope Edward isn't going to take this too far. My dad isn't one to tolerate a suck up.

"Well, I don't confess to being any sort of expert, but my friend Emmett and I have been deep sea fishing on a couple occasions. Although, neither of us proved particularly adept. I think it has to do with patience, or my lack of it. Hence, me trying to push my recovery too quickly last night. I suppose your job promotes a discipline and patience at times than lends itself well to the waiting game of fishing."

"Well, son, patience is something that comes with age and experience. You youngsters can be in such a rush, but somethings are worth waiting for."

I almost snort my lemonade at that one. Charlie had me young, he and mom being barely out of high school, so what right he has to lecture on patience, I'll never know because, let's not kid ourselves, we all know what he wants _us_ to be patient about, and it's not fishing. And as for all this "youngsters" business, he's not even ten years senior to Edward, so that can stop right away.

"You're absolutely right," Edward agrees before catching my eye. I bite my tongue to hold back my own retort. Edward doesn't need me arguing with my father, not when he's perfectly capable of handling Charlie himself. Edward's lips curl up into a small smile. "But then, don't you find that if you wait too long, you can end up missing out on a glorious opportunity. Sometimes, you just have to act and hope for the best."

I'm not sure either of them is talking about fishing anymore.

"That's true too," agrees Charlie. "In police work, you see, it's all about timing. Knowing when you have the correct evidence, when to confront the suspect, and when to wait and allow him to expose himself. These are all things professional law enforcers know and learn, and why confronting criminals is always best left to the professionals." He looks at Edward pointedly.

Edward looks down. I know he still feels guilty for getting me into that situation in the alley, but I still hold out it would have come out worse for me if he'd not been there.

"Also very true. And a lesson I'm reminded of every day." He looks toward my leg before looking back up at Charlie. "I assure you I will do my utmost to protect Bella. I will never forgive myself for putting her in harm's way like that. I assure you it was not my intention, and if I could go back and do things differently I would."

"Come, now," says Sue, putting her hand over Charlie's. "If what Agent Whitlock told us this morning is true, Edward probably saved our Bella. And, Charlie, I swear to God, you would have acted exactly the same in that situation. All this blustering about age and greater wisdom and patience. If there was someone around who was threatening Bella, you would have gone after him too."

"The difference is, Sue, I'm a professional."

"And you think being a cop would have stopped her getting shot, or yourself for that matter, if you'd been in Edward's shoes? Or worse. Perhaps if Edward had held back, she'd have been kidnapped and would be lying dead in a ditch now." She turns to Edward, who has turned pale while she talked and taken my hand, which he's now holding firmly in his grip. "I, for one, want to thank you, Edward. You risked your own life to protect Bella. Yes, you may have acted a little rashly, but we do sometimes when it comes to those we love, but I believe you did it with the best of intentions and helped to advert a worse disaster. So, thank you." She looks toward Charlie. "Anything you want to add?"

He looks at her for a few minutes, and a silent conversation seems to pass between them. I'm beginning to like Sue more and more.

Dad eventually gives a resigned sigh and looks our way. "Thank you, Edward. Sue's right, and I am grateful to you for looking out for Bella, at no small risk to yourself. I like to think I can control things, but sometimes you can't. I just wished I'd been there for her. I hate to think of her getting hurt. It was just her and me for so long. I'm used to being the one she turns to, the one who protects her from the world. But I suppose I have to accept that she's all grown up now, and I need to let the reins go a little."

This is a huge speech for my father, and I know it's taken a lot for him to get this out. I see his mustache twitching with his emotion, and he averts his eyes.

After a couple moments, he looks back up, and I notice a slight glint in his eye. Shit. "Now, Edward, I understand you used to be Bella's employer, and now you're, what, her boyfriend? How did that come about?"

Shit. It would appear we're still not out the woods with Dad yet.

Edward and I have spoken previously about what to tell our parents of the story of our meeting. More accurately, what to tell Charlie, as Esme has already formed her own ideas about what was going on before we went public. But we don't get a chance to launch into our prepared half-truths.

"Oh, you should have been there, Sue," gushes Esme, her hand going to her heart, and I swear her eyes are shiny with tears. "It was so romantic. Before the gala, I had no idea, but then I saw her necklace, and I just knew." She plows on, without seemingly needing to breathe. "She'd confided in me previously, you see, about this handsome gentleman whom she liked but wasn't sure he was ready for a relationship, or even if she was ready herself." She leans in conspiratorially. "We'd previously spoken about that awful Alec, you see." She looks intently at Charlie. "If I ever get my hands on that young man, I will not be held responsible for my actions. I'm sure you'd agree, Charlie?"

He just nods; I'm sure a little overwhelmed by Esme's response.

"Then, when he bought her that book at the auction"—she leans toward Sue as if imparting some motherly knowledge—"a first edition of her favorite Austin. How romantic, Sue. He knew her favorite book." I see Edward blushing next to me and making as if to interrupt, but I squeeze his hand. I think Esme's doing a great job.

"And then he lets Bella know how he feels about her. In front of everyone. Of course, I'd noticed the change in him." She smiles at me. "He's been so much happier recently, more content. But it was then I discovered why. It's all down to your wonderful daughter. And to make the whole story perfect, she's someone I've come to know, love, and admire. I couldn't have picked a more perfect match. And I just know he's going to look after her, and they're going to be so happy together and give me the most adorable grandbabies."

Fuck! What'd she just say? Grandbabies? I start coughing, and Edward pats me on the back, a wicked smirk on his face. As I recover, he leans in to my ear. "Only a few weeks and we can start working on that idea." I shoot him daggers.

The rest of the room's gone very quiet, and I look across at Charlie and Sue. He's looking totally shell-shocked, but Sue has the biggest grin on her face. I can tell she likes Esme. I think those two are going to be great friends, and God help Charlie if he goes against the two of them.

The silence is broken by Carlisle. "Well, on that note, I think it may be time to eat." He gets up and leads us quietly through to the dining room where we are all soon talking again, complimenting Esme on her great food, which unfortunately Edward is unable to enjoy, discussing her job as an interior designer—Sue picking up some hints and tips into the bargain, finding out about Carlisle's role at the hospital. Charlie regales everyone with funny stories about some of the weirder arrests he's made, as well as _hilarious_ stories about my clumsy ways as a child. I'm left with hope that this may just work out.

~TMitE~

The second and third weeks of Edward's recovery see him getting more and more frustrated. Despite Carlisle's reassurance that his recovery is progressing well, he feels he should be healing faster. He's also frustrated by everyone's refusal to let him do any work. In fact, he's been banned from all electronic devices—phones, laptops, tablets—because as soon as he gets one, he starts working, and when he starts working, he doesn't stop. Halfway through the second week, Esme found him at 3 a.m., slumped over a tablet he'd gotten hold of. When she looked at his history, it transpired he'd been working solidly for the previous five hours without a break. He slept soundly for the next twelve hours after that—a clear sign his mind and body weren't ready. Since then, Esme has been extremely strict about everyone adhering to the rule until she deems him ready.

Initially, I found it frustrating that I couldn't text him, but he does have access to a landline, and he's been leaving me the most amusing voice mail messages that more than make up for it. I know he's bored, and I appreciate where he's coming from, but if he can't restrict himself, then Esme will.

It's also frustrating that he's not able to take me out on a date yet. He's moving around more and more each day, but he still gets tired quickly, and his food consumption is still not back to normal. His body is now able to hold down solid food, but it's little and often, and not the full range yet. He still occasionally gets nauseated, but he's learned his lesson and is taking it slowly. But the lack of a date means our relationship is stuck at first base. In all ways. I visit him every evening, but it's like we're teenagers again. We kiss, we cuddle, but there has been zero below the clothes action.

Fortunately, I'm saved from his frustrations at the end of the week when I travel to Forks to spend Christmas with Charlie and Sue and her children, Seth and Leah. I'm joined by Angela, whose parents have this year decided to spend the festive period at some retreat in the mountains, and, as Ben had to work, she was at loose ends.

I know I'm going to miss Edward while I'm away, but this trip home has been planned for a while. Once I get home, I find an extra bag stored away in my trunk, full of presents for me, Sue, and my Dad. Esme and Edward can be really sneaky when they want to be. The few days I'm home are quiet, despite the house being so full, but nice. Dad seems to be relaxed, and it's lovely to see him and Sue happy together.

I'm relieved to be able to put my injured foot up for a few days. Going back to work so soon has been good for my mind, but getting around on the crutches has been exhausting. Sue sets me tasks to do that I can accomplish while sitting: peeling potatoes, rolling pastry, chopping vegetables. She even manages to get Charlie to help, a feat I never managed. It's great to have this large extended family around me after so many years of just me and Charlie.

Esme has sent some very thoughtful gifts: a lovely pair of warm gloves for Sue and a thick, waterproof coat for Charlie to use when he's winter fishing. For me, she's provided a beautifully bound, illustrated compilation of Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes books. Edward has also done well. Charlie received a weekend fishing trip for two, and Seth quickly volunteered to be his plus one. Sue, Leah, Angela, and I all receive vouchers for a pamper day at the local spa for the day after Christmas so we can recover from the busy day. I also received a pair of stunning, yet understated, drop earrings that will go perfectly with my swan necklace.

By the fourth day away, I'm really missing my Elevator Man. Angela and I aren't due to travel home until tomorrow, Monday, but Angela catches me wallowing.

"You miss him, don't you?"

I nod.

"I'm missing Ben too." We give each other a hug.

"So why are we still here?" she asks as we pull apart.

"Pardon?"

"Why don't we just go home now? We could have the car loaded in ten minutes, and I'm sure Sue will understand us going home a day early, and she'll convince your dad he does too. Besides, you can blame it all on me."

I smile at her. It really is tempting. I could surprise Edward. Then I get an idea.

As we pull out of Forks half an hour later, Angela's at the wheel, and I'm on the phone to Esme. I've some planning to do.

~TMitE~

We get home mid-afternoon, and Angela comes in to help me get ready. She selects an outfit that she declares as first-date material. Not too sexy but also tempting enough to invite a second date. It is comprised of a fitted black dress with green side panels that enhanced my figure, making it look very hourglass. It's not low cut or too short but is stylish with a little sexy thrown in.

Angela helps me with my make-up and hair, and I have to admit the final look is just what I was going for. She wishes me luck then rushes out the door. I know she's off to find Ben.

I arrive at the Cullen's house at 6 p.m. on the dot and ring the bell, even though lately I've taken to just walking in, but this is a date after all.

I wait patiently but end up having to ring again as no one answers.

"Is anyone going to get that?" I hear Edward yell from inside. There's no further noise until I hear labored footsteps. As he opens the door, I can hear him muttering under his breath. I'm sure he's pissed and wondering where everyone is, but I know Esme and Carlisle aren't far away. They're just keeping a low profile, as per instructions.

"Can I help you?" he says in a voice that could freeze fire as he opens the door. I just stand there smiling.

He looks up, and his face morphs from grumpy, to shocked, to the biggest grin in a matter of seconds. It's a wonder to see. Then I'm being pulled into a bone-crushing hug. "Bella! What are you doing here? You're supposed to still be in Forks? God, I've missed you."

I know exactly how he feels. It really is good to see him again.

He steps back and looks me up and down.

"Not that I'm objecting, but what are you doing here all dressed up?"

"I thought it was time we had that first date," I say with a smile.

He suddenly looks worried. "Bella, I still don't think I'm up for taking you out. I can't drive, I still get tired easily, and I don't think I would find much to eat on a restaurant menu." He looks heartbroken.

"And that, Edward, is why I've decided to bring the date to you." He looks confused. "May I come in?"

He moves to one side and allows me entry.

"Now, I was thinking dinner and a movie was a good first date, so you have fifteen minutes to change into date attire because if I'm getting dressed up, you are too, then I'm meeting you in the dining room."

"You've got this all arranged, haven't you?" I nod. "And I'm guessing Mom and Dad are in on it, and that's why they're nowhere to be found?" I nod again.

"Now get moving, Mr. Cullen. You don't want to be late for our first date. That shit really gives a girl a bad impression." He smiles broadly at me before leaning down and kissing me tenderly. Then he turns and makes his way, a little slowly, up the stairs. I hurry to the kitchen to find Esme.

"Is it all ready?"

"The starter is plated up and ready to go. The main is just being kept warm in the oven, and dessert is in the fridge."

I peer into the oven, taking in the wonderful aroma, before I give her a warm hug. "Thank you so much for this. You've outdone yourself." I'd been all ready to pick up takeout on my way over, but Esme insisted on cooking for us, maintaining most takeout would be too rich or fatty for Edward's still delicate digestion.

"You've not seen the best bit yet," she said, taking me by the hand and leading me through to the den. "Carlisle's been moving furniture."

As I enter the room, I'm greeted by a smiling Carlisle, looking extremely proud of his accomplishments. And so he should. The cozy room has been set up like a real movie theatre. There's a large white sheet covering all of one wall, and the two sofas have been lined up in rows facing it, as if in the smallest cinema you've ever visited. At the back of the room, I spot a small table on which sits a stack of books supporting a small black box with cables running to it.

"Is that the projector?"

"It is. We use it to watch movies outside in the summer projected onto the wall of the pool house, but it will work equally well on the sheet," says Carlisle.

I hug him, and then hug Esme again. "This is fantastic."

"Well, we're going to make ourselves scarce. Give you two a little privacy. I don't imagine Edward will be too long."

I thank them one final time before they slip out the door on their own date night. As they leave, I realize this is the first time Edward and I have been alone since the hospital. It makes me a little nervous as well as excited.

As predicted, I don't have to wait long after they leave before Edward is coming down the stairs. It's been a while since I've seen him in a suit, and the look makes me stop in my tracks. He's put on a blue-gray suit with a blue shirt in a darker tone. He's added a plain, almost black, tie. His hair has been growing longer since he's been off work, and he's sporting a least a day's stubble. The look is good. And by good, I mean fucking hot.

If it wasn't for his slightly slower descent of the stairs, and the strong hold he takes of the banister, you wouldn't guess he'd been injured. He looks every bit my Elevator Man. It takes all my will power not to jump him. But I know his body isn't ready, and besides, we're doing this properly. Aren't we?

His face breaks into his panty-dropping smirk as he reaches the bottom step. He knows exactly the effect he's having on me. "Drop the lip, Isabella, or we won't make it to dinner, and I'm going to send myself back to hospital with a hernia."

My teeth quickly drop my lip. I hadn't even realized I'd been biting on it.

I clear my throat in an attempt to clear my head and get my body and brain working again.

"Are you hungry?" I ask, a little breathlessly.

"Oh, yeah, I'm hungry," he says, moving closer to me and bending forward to nip on my earlobe and kiss me on the delicate area behind my ear. I whimper. If I don't do something soon, we're going to be going against all his doctor's orders, and Esme and Carlisle's hard work is going to go to waste.

"First date, remember?" I say, using my last ounce of willpower to take a step back.

He licks his lips and smirks at me. "And I promised I'd be a gentleman. But you don't play fair, Sugar Lips. How can I resist you in that dress, and after I've not seen you for several days?"

I thought the dress was quite modest, but obviously, it's doing things for Edward.

"Food," I say, taking his hand and turning to lead him through to the dining room.

As I enter, I realize Esme has outdone herself. The lighting is low, and the table is set for two. It's decorated in a festive style, Esme obviously still in the Christmas mood. A red and gold runner stretches the length of the table with matching napkins and place mats. The centerpiece, made of a stunning collection of flowers and candles, continues the red and gold theme. Water is on ice as Edward is banned from alcohol, which is probably just as well, judging by how the evening is going so far; we really don't need our inhibitions lowering.

"Did you arrange all this?" he asks, clearly surprised.

"Well, I called your mom, and she did the rest. I really can't take that much credit."

"I'm still getting over the fact you're back early, but to find I'm also on our first date, well it all feels a little unreal." He pulls me in for another kiss, wrapping his arms around me. He doesn't take the kiss too far, but I can still feel the passion bubbling away under the surface. As he pulls back, he tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear and smiles down at me. "Come, eat. I want to hear all about your Christmas with your newly extended family."

The meal is eaten with us sharing stories about our last few days, and before I know it, Edward is feeding me dessert. As well as stories, we've also shared lingering looks, touches, and even the odd kiss. It's all been relatively chaste, but I can still feel this draw to him. This desire to take things further.

After eating, I declare it's movie time and lead him through to the den.

"I take it Dad did this?" he asks.

"He did indeed. They have both been extremely helpful."

"And sneaky. I knew they were acting suspicious, but I never thought they were up to this."

We take our seats in the back row, and I flip on the projector. I'd thought long and hard about the movie to watch. I didn't want anything too romantic, or too violent. In the end, I opted for a classic with a festive theme. It's one I like to watch around this time each year, a film of second chances and a renewed appreciation of life. I curl up into Edward's side, and he throws his arm over my shoulder, as the opening credits of "It's a Wonderful Life" play out on the large, makeshift screen in front of us.

"I suppose on a first date, I'd be a complete gentleman at the theatre. I'd leave it to later in the relationship to turn it into a full-blown make-out session?"

"Let's leave the making out until date two," I say. "I actually want to watch this." I know I have to be strong. He's still not been given the go ahead for anything too physical. But it's hard having him this close in a darkened room, breathing in his scent, feeling his hands gently stroking my arm, his lips kissing the top of my head, knowing we're alone.

To say I'm enjoying the sensation of being snuggled up to Edward's side would be an understatement, but even he's not enough to distract me for long, and I'm soon pulled in to the action on the screen. It's about a third of the way through when I glance across at Edward to see if he's enjoying it as much as I am, only to find him looking at me instead.

"Aren't you watching?" I whisper, as if I'm likely to disturb other viewers.

"It's so much more fascinating to watch you," he says. "Your face is so expressive. You really love this movie, don't you?"

"What's not to love?"

"You do know you're mouthing most of the lines?"

I start to blush. I know I've seen the film a few times, but I didn't realize I did that. He reaches over and brushes his thumb across my cheek. "It's adorable," he adds. "You're adorable." I look up and see the hunger in his eyes moments before his lips make contact with mine. Within seconds, the film is forgotten, and I find myself lost in the sensations that Edward never fails to elicit in me. My hands are in his hair, and his are roaming free. They ghost up my sides before taking hold of my breasts firmly. Even through my dress and bra, the feeling is electrifying. I push my chest forward, needing more. It's been so long since he's touched me like this, but my body hasn't forgotten him.

I feel one hand move round to my back, and slowly, agonizingly slowly, the zipper on my dress is pulled down, and I can at last feel his fingers on my inflamed flesh. I give a shiver as I feel him pop my bra fastening, one-handed, and then his hands are pushing my dress and bra straps off my shoulders and down my arms, exposing my breasts as he does.

"God, I've missed these," he mumbles before lowering his head and taking my right nipple into his mouth. I allow my head to fall back onto the sofa, thrusting my breast farther up into his waiting mouth, letting out a moan as he gently bites then licks the sensitive skin. "Fuck, I've missed the noises you make. I'm going to make you scream, Sugar Lips. There is nothing better than hearing you roar my name as you come."

I feel him kiss across to my other nipple, and I try to regain control of my senses. I know there's some reason we shouldn't be doing this. "Edward, we have to stop," I force out the words, half my brain telling me to shut the fuck up and just enjoy it.

"There's no way I'm fucking stopping now," he practically growls, the vibration against my already excited chest sending shivers through my body. "Not until I'm buried deep inside you." He pushes me gently, lowering me backward onto the sofa. He's right on top of me, and I know we shouldn't be doing this, but I can't stop. My legs wrap around him, and I grind my hips upward, getting some much-needed friction from the not insubstantial bulge in his trousers.

"Fuck, Bella," he whispers as I allow my hands to travel down his toned chest, over his abs, before I undo the button of his fly, my fingers stroking teasingly over his erection as I do. I need this. He needs this. This is going to happen, even though we both know we shouldn't. But some part of my brain is still thinking rationally.

"Flip over. I'm going on top. It'll put less strain on your abdominal muscles if I fuck you."

He groans, and then I find myself being quickly turned and, before I know it, he's under me as I straddle his hips. "Tell me again how you're going to fuck me. Tell me exactly what you're going to do to me, Miss Swan." His voice is husky, and his eyes are dark and dangerous. So, my Elevator Man wants me to talk dirty, and I'm happy to oblige. At this point, I'd do anything he asked.

I sit back and trail my hands down his front, undoing the buttons of his shirt as I go, allowing my nails to scrap through the fine hair on his chest and farther down, leading the way to the promised land that lies inside his pants.

"First, I'm going to run my hands over your swollen cock; I may even allow my mouth have a little play. Would you like that, Mr. Cullen? Would you like me to suck your cock?" As I talk, I run my hand over his still-covered appendage, and judging by the way it jumps and seems to grow impossibly harder, I think he likes the sound of my suggestion.

"Fuck, it's been too long since I've felt your hot little mouth on me. What else are you going to do?" he demands.

I start to carefully undo his zipper. I'm in no hurry, enjoying this game. "Then I'm going to lower myself onto you, slowly, appreciating every inch as it fills me in ways only you can. I can't wait to feel you moving inside me, Mr. Cullen, and I'm going to make the most of it. I'm going to make you scream my name as you come deep inside me, as I ride you. All you have to do is lie back and relax."

I reach my hand up to the top of his boxers, ready to reach inside and release the part of him I'm desperate to get my hands on, but then I freeze. Something is wrong. I listen. There's a sound I can just hear above the noise of the movie. It sounds like feet. Then I hear voices.

"Shit," I whisper. "It's Carlisle and Esme. They're back early."

His eyes open wide. "Mom will kill me." I giggle because him being scared of Esme really is funny, but then I'm moving as the noises come closer. I quickly climb off him and stand up, hastily putting my bra back on and pulling up my dress. I look at Edward and see he's buttoning up his shirt and running his hands through his hair.

"Quick," I say, turning my back to him, "do up my zipper."

His hands make quick work of the task, then he pulls me to sit next to him, running his hands through my hair. His face looks concerned. "Fuck, I've made a mess of this," he confesses, but I have no chance to reply as we hear the door handle turning. I quickly settle back into his side, he throws his arm around my shoulder, and we both try our best to look like we've been sitting like this all night.

"Hi, kids," greets Esme. "How's your evening going?"

I'm grateful for the dim light as I'm sure my face is glowing red. I really don't know what to say, but Edward seems more composed. "Fantastic," he says. "Bella has given me a perfect first date. But you're back a little early, aren't you?"

Esme glances down at the carpet then looks toward Carlisle, who just raises an eyebrow at her. "Well, we thought we'd just check that you two were okay. I'd hate for something to happen to you when I'm not here." Her sheepish manner lets me know exactly why she's home early. She didn't think she could trust us not to take things too far. I'm offended by my friend's lack of trust in me not to do something that would hurt her son. Then I remember what we were about to do and guilt takes over. I could have really hurt him by engaging in activities his body isn't ready for.

"As you can see, Mother, all is well," says Edward tersely. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get to the end of my date and watch the rest of this movie."

Esme looks to the screen where Clarence is describing to George how he jumped into the water to save him and how he's an angel, second-class. It's one of my favorite scenes.

"Oh, I love this part," says Esme and starts to move into the room. "Do you mind if we join you for the end?" She goes to sit down, but as she does, two things happen at once. Carlisle gently takes her by the hand and pulls her toward him, and Edwards speaks up, "Mom, it's not customary to allow your mother to gatecrash your first date, especially when you're in your 30s."

"He's right," says Carlisle, looking at her sternly. "You and I can go and watch this on Netflix in our room." He turns to us. "Edward, Bella, I apologize for the interruption. Please forget we were here." With that, he pulls Esme from the room.

As they leave, I hear her whispering to him. "But they could've been doing something. I still remember what it's like to be young and in love. And did you see her hair? It didn't get that way from eating dinner."

"And I too remember being young, Esme," comes his exasperated reply. "And I seem to remember your hair was just as disheveled when I took you home to your father after our first date. And now if you'll please get up those stairs, I'd like to remind you how much I remember what it's like to be young and in love."

"Oh, Carlisle," I hear her say on a breath as the door finally closes, thankfully shutting out any further discussion.

I giggle and look at Edward, who has a rather disgusted look on his face. "I'm so sorry for my parents," he says.

"I love your parents," I say and kiss him, briefly.

We watch the rest of the film curled up next to each other. Neither of us want to resume where we'd left off with Esme and Carlisle in the house, even though I think we both have a strong suspicion they're up to exactly what we were nearly up to before we were so rudely interrupted.

At the end of the date, Edward walks me to the door. "Will you be okay driving home? It's getting late."

"I'll be fine," I reassure him. "I'll text you when I get in so you know I'm safe."

"It was a great first date. I can't wait for the second." He smirks at me, and I shake my head.

"The second date will be in public, Mr. Cullen. No funny business." I laugh at his adorable pout, kiss his lips quickly, and practically skip to my car. I can't wait for date three.

* * *

 **A/N: So, date one down, and his recovery is going well. We're nearing the end of this little story. I should have it all wrapped up in the next chapter, and then an Epi, and perhaps a future take.**

 **Thanks, as always, to Alice's White Rabbit for all her help.**


	20. Chapter 20

**The Man in the Elevator - Chapter 20**

It's been just over a week since Edward and I had our first date. In that time, Edward has made great progress in his recovery. To look at him moving around now, you'd not guess he'd been shot. Occasionally, I catch him pulling a strained expression when he moves suddenly, so I know he's still got a little more healing to go, but today, he's visiting the doctor. His appointment is late afternoon, and he's going to pick me up from work for a lunch date after. Our second date.

To say I'm a little nervous as I exit McCarty's in an understatement. The way Edward is leaning up against his car is very reminiscent of the time he picked me up for our date that wasn't, and my mind involuntarily flashes back to that day. The day I thought we were going on a proper date, and he thought take-out food and a quick fuck in the back of his car was a better idea.

There are some stark differences today though. For one, instead of his usual suit, Edward is dressed in jeans and a hoodie under a winter jacket to keep out the cold. He also isn't on his phone. I suppose Esme still has it confiscated. I wonder if that means the doctors gave him bad news about going back to work.

He greats me with a smile and bends down to kiss me. Last time, I remember him giving me a quick peck on the cheek, keeping things chaste until we got out of sight in his car. This time, there's no holding back. He draws me in close and is soon devouring me. My hands move up into his hair as I surrender to the feelings he has never failed to elicit in me.

Eventually, we come up for air. He looks down at me lovingly, cupping my face with his right hand, his thumb running across my cheek, as he continues to hold me close with his other hand on the small of my back.

We are broken out of our moment by the sound of a wolf whistle from behind me. Edward looks up and scowls.

"Emmett," he mutters.

I turn around and take in our audience: my bosses, Emmett and Rosalie. I smile sheepishly at them.

"You two make such an adorable couple," Emmett teases, a grin broad across his face. "Such a pity you're still a broken man and can't take things further. How are the blue balls fairing?" Trust Emmett to keep things crude. I blush, but I also smile as Rosalie clips him around the ear.

"Emmett, you'll be the one with blue balls if you don't learn to shut it," she says.

"Seriously though, man, how's the recovery? What'd the doc say?"

Edward grins and pulls me in close to his side. "He's given me the all clear. I can go back to work, go back to my apartment, and, most importantly, resume all usual activities, as I feel able."

I turn to look at him. "Really?" I can't hide my smile. I like the sound of resuming usual activities.

"He said to take things slowly and to stop if I feel any pain, but there's no reason I can't get back to my normal life."

"That's fantastic news," says Emmett, stepping forward and clapping Edward on the shoulder. Hard. "So, I'll be seeing you at the gym? You've gotten a little scrawny with all this bed rest."

"Fuck you," says Edward. "I'd still be able to kick your ass any day."

"Challenge accepted." Emmett grins back.

"Now, if you'll excuse us. My girl and I have reservations at a fancy restaurant."

"You treat her right this time, Cullen," says Rosalie, fixing Edward with a death glare that truly terrifies me. "If she ends up back here in tears, it'll be more than a case of blue balls you'll have to worry about. Do we have an understanding?"

I feel Edward pull me closer. I'm not sure if it's to protect me or for me to protect him. He nods his head. "You have my word, Rose. I'll look after her."

They stare at each other for a moment before Rosalie breaks the moment, looking my way. "Have a great time, Bella. Don't worry if you're late back; I'll cover for you. I know the boss." She winks with a grin then takes Emmett's hand and leads him away.

Edward turns to me, grinning also. "Miss Swan, are you ready to dine?"

I nod at him as he steals a quick kiss before helping me into the back of his car and climbing in behind me.

"So where are you taking me?" I ask.

"The Ivory."

"I've always wanted to go there," I say. "I nearly did once, with Esme, but then her errant son decided he was free after all."

Edward looks confused for a moment. "Carlisle's birthday?" I nod. "Hey, that wasn't my fault. I seem to remember I only became available because I was stood up by a young lady who was supposed to come for a meeting that evening."

"And it wasn't my fault I stood you up. I was being stalked by Caius …" My protesting is cut dead by his lips meeting mine.

"Next birthday, we'll all go together."

"I'll look forward to it."

~TMITE~

"So, where are you going?" asks Alice from my bed where she and Angela are sitting, sipping wine.

"I've no idea," I reply, "hence the wardrobe emergency. I've no clue what to wear." It's Saturday afternoon and I'm getting ready for my third date with Edward. One I'm hoping will have a very happy ending, if you get my drift.

"You've still not told me about the second date," complains Angela.

"She wouldn't shut up about it at work," moans Alice.

"I only mentioned it once, and that was only because you wouldn't stop asking," I protest.

"The food was amazing, Alice! And Edward, he was such a gentleman, Alice! He pulled out my chair and gave suggestions on which were the best things on the menu. Oh, Alice, he's so perfect and we're so in love," mocks Alice in a high sing-song voice I assume is supposed to be me.

"I do not sound like that!" I shriek, shocked at how she sees me.

"I know," she says sadly. "I'm just jealous. Everyone has a boyfriend except me. I have to put up with Rosalie and Emmett all day at work, and you two are all loved up. But, you're right; you've not been rubbing your happiness in my face. I'm sorry for being grouchy."

"Oh, Alice. You know you don't need a man to be happy, right?" Angela says, leaning over to give Alice a hug.

"And you're no better," she snaps. "All, 'Ben said he loves me and wants to move in with me. I've never been happier, Alice.' Ugh. It makes me sick."

"Ben asked you to move in?" I almost scream at her. Why is this the first I'm hearing about this?

"Yeah, and I'm thinking of actually saying yes."

"This is huge, Ang. You have to do it. You two are so perfect together."

She smiles at me. "Thanks, babe."

"Excuse me," interrupts Alice. "We were discussing my problems here. Namely, my lack of a man. And, yes, before you bring it up again, I know I don't need a man to be happy, but I really could do with a little action. Do you know it's been six months? Six months without even a sniff of action. Any longer and I think things will start to shrivel up."

Ang and I look at Alice, trying not to laugh. She really does enjoy her melodramatic moments.

"Okay, Alice, today marks the start of operation 'Find Alice a Man'." I grin at her.

"Ben's got a few single friends I might be able to set you up with," says Angela.

"Bear in mind, though, that while I may be slightly on the desperate side, I'm not willing to settle for any buffoon with a cock."

The three of us continue to laugh together as Alice helps me pick out the perfect third-date outfit, and we narrow down the type of man we are allowed to fix her up with.

~TMITE~

At 5 p.m. on the dot, my doorbell rings, and I rush to answer it, amidst slightly drunken calls of, "Go get him, girl."

We've not seen each other since our second date earlier this week. He's been busy getting back into the swing of work and leading a normal life. So, I'm a little apprehensive as I open the door but also extremely excited and happy to see my man. The sight that greats me is stunning. He's dressed in a crisp, white, button-down shirt and dark gray slacks. He's tie-less and is sporting a slight stubble. Just how I like him. The thought of how that stubble would feel between my legs makes me a little breathless.

"Hey, Edward," I say.

"Hi, Edward," chorus my girls from behind me.

He briefly looks over my shoulder. "Hi, girls." But then his attention is back on me. He looks me up and down hungrily. "You look stunning, Bella."

Alice has put me in what she terms a classic, declaring that you can never go wrong with a little black dress. It comes to about mid-thigh, flaring out from my hips and has thin straps that leave my shoulders nearly bare.

"But I'm afraid you may be a little cold."

"No problem," I declare and grab my little leather coat from its peg behind the door. He helps me to slip it on.

"I like this," he mutters into my ear, his fingers ghosting over my collarbone. "You're a combination of sweet innocence and deadly sin. What are you going to be tonight, Isabella? An angel or the devil?"

It's all I can do to breath as his words go straight to my core. I consider abandoning the date, kicking the girls out, and dragging him to my room. But I resist.

"I think we should go." I look into his eyes and nearly get lost there. His smirk is back. The one he knows I can't resist. If it weren't for two other pairs of eyes watching our every move, this date would fail to start.

"Whatever you say, Miss Swan." He takes my hand and waves to my friends, leading me down the stairs to his waiting car.

As Sam drives us through the city, getting farther and farther out into the sticks, I wonder where he's taking me. He sits quietly beside me in the back of the car, holding my hand on the seat between us, rubbing circles on the back with his thumb. He seems distracted, and I wonder what's bothering him. I squeeze his hand to get his attention, and he turns to me, smiling.

"What's up?" I ask.

He shrugs. "I'm just hoping you'll enjoy tonight."

"Where are we going?"

"I told you. It's a surprise."

I humpf. "Have I ever told you I don't like surprises?"

He laughs. "On several occasions, Bella. But, trust me; this one will be worth it. Would it help if I took your mind off the journey?"

"It may," I concede with a shrug.

He smiles again and brings his lips to mine. It's a soft and delicate kiss, his lips passing gently over mine. One of his hands rests at my neck, his fingers gently stroking the delicate skin just below my hairline at the back. The other is still holding my hand. I pull it free and reach for him, holding tight to the shirt at his waist. His lips leave mine and trail across to my ear. "Did I tell you I went to the gym the other night?" I shake my head slightly. "I was checking if I could get full use of my stomach muscles without any pain."

I swallow. "And can you?"

"Oh, yes, Miss Swan. I'm fully able to use this body. I can do sit-ups, press-ups"—as he speaks, his tongue licks my ear, and I feel his fingers dancing up my inner thigh—"abdominal crunches, you know, the kind you do when you thrust your hips forward repeatedly, were all no problem."

Oh fuck. I so need him to thrust his hips forward repeatedly, preferably while I'm lying underneath him. I let out a low moan as his fingers run once over the thin material of my panties between my legs.

He chuckles. "Bella?"

"Uh, huh?"

"We're here."

I look up, flushed and needy. We can't be there already. Things were just getting interesting. He pulls back from me and climbs out his side of the car. I'm still trying to regain my composure when he opens my door and reaches in with his hand to help me out. He's grinning like the devil himself. I shake my head and allow him to help me out.

"Where are we?" I ask, taking in the countryside around us and the quaint building up ahead. We seem to be overlooking a deep valley. The light is starting to dim so it's hard to make out what's growing on the hillside, but it appears to be planted in long, straight rows.

"Come," he says, leading me by the hand toward the building. It's one story with a red tile roof and exposed bricks. It looks old, almost as if it's a part of the hillside it's nestled into. As we approach, a cheerful-looking lady meets us. She's wearing a long, flowing skirt with a colorful blouse. Her hair is up in a lose topknot, and her face is framed by a lot of loose tendrils.

"Edward," she says fondly, reaching out her hand for his. "And this must be Bella. Please, come this way. We have everything waiting for you."

I can't help smiling at the warmth emanating from her. Her introduction indicates to me she must know Edward, and I wonder how. As we walk, she continues to talk. "George has selected some of our best from last year, as well as a couple vintage bottles for you to sample, and you've been lucky with the weather so I've set you up for later on the veranda with a space heater. The views when the moon comes out are spectacular. But then, I don't need to tell you that, do I, Edward?" She looks back with a smile, and I look up at him as he returns it in kind.

She leads us into the building and down a flight of steps to a room full of barrels. At the far end, I see a wooden bar with row upon row of wine behind it, and I realize Edward must have brought me to a winery. A smartly dressed, middle-aged gentleman is standing behind the bar. As we approach, he pours out four glasses of wine.

"Bella, let me introduce George and his wife, Sheila. They own and run this award-winning vineyard and winery."

"Part own," corrects George. "You know very well that if it wasn't for your generous help when Sheila got sick, we'd be out of business by now."

Edward waves off his remarks. "And you've more than payed me back in great wine since."

"Talking of which," says George, "this is the one that won gold at the Decanter awards."

"A great choice to start with; I hear it's light and fruity and almost fizzes on the tongue."

"This is what they say."

Edward picks up a glass of the white wine and hands it to me before picking up his own glass. George and Sheila join us.

"To great wine and great company," toasts Edward, and we all raise our glasses and take a sip. I'm no wine expert, but this one I'm sure I could drink all day. It's delicious.

"I'll leave you to it. Give me a call when you're done," says Sheila, giving Edward's arm a squeeze as she leaves, taking her glass with her.

"So, what do you think, Bella?" asks Edward, indicating the wine I'm still sipping on.

I don't know what to say. I know I like it, but I have no idea how to describe it. "It's nice?" I attempt.

He smiles. "In what way, Bella. Give me more."

"I don't know, Edward," I say, suddenly feeling embarrassed by my lack of knowledge. I feel my face flushing. "I've never been wine tasting before. I know I like it. I know it's the sort of wine I could see myself drinking on a warm summer's day with my girlfriends as we put the world to rights. It's fruity, as George said, but has a little buzz to it. It's kind of exciting without being a show off, like a fizzy wine."

Edward throws his head back and laughs, and I wonder if he's laughing at me. "Isabella Swan, I love you. You have the most amazing way of looking at things." Then he turns to our host. "Get that on the marketing, George, 'exciting without being a show off.' I love it."

I wonder if he's teasing me. I really know nothing about wine. Then he pulls me into him and kisses me. It's not too passion-filled, more a quick, fun kiss. "You described it perfectly." His eyes tell me he's not lying; he really does think I gave a good description. He turns back to George. "What else have you got for us?"

"Well," says George turning to me, "if you liked that one, you should really like this one." He reaches behind him and selects a bottle, making quick work of the cork and pours some into fresh glasses. "It's a 2005."

"I good year," interrupts Edward, and George nods.

"It's a little heavier than the last one, but still fruity and refreshing."

I watch as the other two take a sip, eager to do things right. But they just seem to have a bit of a sniff and then drink normally.

"Are you okay, Bella?" asks Edward. I blush again, having been caught trying to cover my ignorance.

"I was just checking I was doing it right. I mean, don't you usually have to do things like swill it around and spit it out?"

Edward smiles at me fondly, reaching up to run his thumb along my rosy cheek. "I don't enjoy spitting, and I'm sure you don't either. We're here to enjoy the wine and perhaps find one we really like. I'd love to give you a few bottles to enjoy on that summer day with Alice and Angela, or perhaps we could enjoy a bottle or two together. All you have to worry about is if you like the wine or not. You don't need to know fancy words to describe them or what years are good or bad. That's what George is for."

"Believe me, Bella," adds on George, "you really don't need to be an expert. When Edward first visited us, he didn't know a red from a white. He pretends he knows a little now, but don't let it fool you. He still can't tell the difference between a merlot and a shiraz."

At their words, I relax and just start to enjoy the wine. The wine itself also probably helps, loosening me up and stopping me from worrying. George presents us with a varied selection of reds and whites. By the time we've finished, we have a few bottles set up on the end of the table, selected as our favorites.

"This one is for your meal tonight, and I'll have a couple crates of the others waiting for you when you leave," says George.

Edward thanks him as we start to make our way back up the stairs. At the top, we're met by a smiling Sheila. "I was just coming to get you. Your dinner's ready." She smiles at us both before leading us around to the back of the building where a table's been set out on a large covered patio. Edward leads me over, helping me into my seat, which is just as well as I'm a little lightheaded from the wine tasting. I look out at the view, and Sheila was right, it's spectacular. The moon is behind us, and it casts shadows up the rolling hills and across the rows of grapes vines. "I'll bring you out here again in the summer," says Edward. "This place seems to almost have a life, the feel of the place changing with each season. At the moment, it's in hibernation, but it comes alive in the summer."

"Thank you for bring me here," I say, taking his hand. "Thank you for sharing this with me."

"I want to share everything with you," he replies, suddenly very serious. "You're my everything. My life, my future. I love you." I see him take a deep breath and turn to look out over the hills, a puzzled look on his face. He turns back to me, the puzzled look still there. "Bella …" he starts, but then we're interrupted by Sheila bring out two plates of food.

"Spiced potted crab with soda bread," she announces, putting down our plates and pouring us both a glass of the vintage white wine we'd been tasting.

"Thank you," says Edward, and she leaves us with a smile. The food is delicious, and I have to admit I am so engrossed in enjoying it that it takes me a while to realize Edward is being very quiet. I watch him as his picks at his food, and I wonder if perhaps he doesn't like crab. I reach across, squeezing his hand that's laying on the table beside his plate. As I do, he looks up at me, as if waking from a deep sleep. I furrow my brow, silently asking what's wrong. He smiles at me, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes, before turning over his hand and entwining our fingers.

"I love you, Bella. Why have you put up with my bullshit these past few months?"

I smile at him. "I love you," I say simply. Then my grin widens. I'm determined to pull him out of this funk he's gotten himself into. "Besides, there were some distinct benefits to putting up with your moody ass. One being the fine ass itself." I hum. "If I didn't think it would go straight to your head, I'd tell you how much I enjoy the way that ass looks in your suits. But do you know the best thing about your ass? I don't just get to look at it. Oh no, I get to touch." I slip off my shoe and start to run my bare foot up his calf. He raises his eyebrows at me. "And not just the ass. I get to touch your long muscular legs, I can run my hands through the sexiest hair on any man alive, across that jaw that could cut ice, over your magnificent broad shoulders, down you well-toned chest and abdomen, and then down to my favorite playground." As I talk, my foot reaches its destination, and I run my toes over the bulge that is definitely forming there.

"Bella …" he says, his tone a distinct warning. "Sheila has gone to a lot of trouble for us. I'd hate to have to abandon dinner and drag you off to a private place to teach you a lesson about teasing me."

I don't stop though. Instead, I increase my pressure, and I'm rewarded with a sharp intake of breath. His hand reaches under the table and takes hold of my foot, stopping its movement but not removing it. "You do realize I'll make you pay for this later, don't you? Later, when I get you back to my apartment and get that tantalizing dress off you. When I'm able to run my hands all over your delectable body. Then I'm going to make you beg. Tonight, Bella, when you come to my place after this date because, make no mistake, you will be coming back to mine, I'll have all night to play with you, to tease you. You'll be my little plaything." With that, he removes my foot, and I allow it to fall back to the floor. I lick my lips. I want to go back now. I want a night of being teased by my Elevator Man.

I'm about to suggest it when Sheila arrives back. She frowns at Edward's plate. But he reassures her it was delicious, and he looks forward to the next course, which she presents as baked garlic parmesan chicken. Once again, the tastes are out of this world, and I'm pleased to see Edward eating more. I occasionally catch him looking at me, or out over the vineyard with a far-away look in his eye, bordering on worried. I wonder, once again, what's bothering him, but every time I go to ask him, he starts talking about something else. By the time we've finished our Crème Brule desserts, I'm starting to feel a little frustrated. As Sheila clears away our plates, he turns to her. "Is it okay if we go for a little stroll around the grounds?"

"Of course, it is," she says, squeezing his shoulder. He takes my hand and leads me down toward the rows of vines. As we walk through them, he attempts to explain to me a little about how they're cared for, but I'm still distracted by his mood swings tonight. I stop abruptly, forcing him to do the same, and he turns to look at me with curiosity.

"Are you going to start talking? Because I know there's something wrong. You've been up and down like a yo-yo tonight, and it's starting to worry me. Have I done something? Is there something wrong? Tell me, Edward, or you can take me home now."

He looks me in the eyes, then he looks around us. "It's beautiful here, isn't it?" I agree it is, but I'm getting a little sick of him avoiding my questions, and I let out a long sigh. "Bear with me, please," he says, squeezing my hands. "You've had a good night?"

"I've had a wonderful night when you've not been distance and distracted."

"I'm sorry about that. I've just been thinking about something. I'm still not convinced I'm doing the right thing. No, that's wrong." He seems to correct himself. "I know I'm doing the right thing. I've never been surer about anything. I'm just not convinced the timing is right."

"Will you just spit it out, Edward. I'm going crazy here."

Then my mouth drops open as he drops to one knee and pulls a ring box from his pocket. "Bella Swan, I love you with all my heart. I know I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I think you want the same thing too. I know you're not ready for marriage, and you're probably going to say no, or ask me to wait, and believe me if you do, I'll wait forever to make you mine. But, please, considering it. We can have as long or short an engagement as you like. Saying yes doesn't mean you have to give anything up. You can still have your career, your independence. I'm not asking you to start knocking out babies and become a 1950's housewife, although I'd love to have kids with you someday. Fuck, this is all too soon, isn't it? We've only been on three dates for fuck's sake, but, Bella, I know what I want, and if being shot and nearly dying has taught me anything, it's that you have to seize life and make the most of every moment. I don't want to wait to ask you, I want you to know how I feel now. I want you to know this is forever for me."

He goes quiet for a moment. "Have you finished?" I ask.

"I think so," he says, and I suddenly find his nervousness and rambling so endearing. It's so unlike my usually confident Elevator Man. Then all he's said hits me. He doesn't know if I want this too. He thinks I'm going to turn him down. If you'd asked me earlier today if I wanted to marry Edward Cullen, I'd have told you, "Yeah, probably, one day." That "one day" being some indeterminate time in the future when we'd gotten to know each other better, when I was older and felt more secure in my own life, before I tied it to someone else's.

"What are you thinking?" he asks.

"Was there a question in that speech somewhere?"

He smiles. "I believe I may have skipped that part. Bella Swan, would you do me the honor of agreeing to be my wife? Will you marry me?"

I look at him on his knee in front of me, in the mud of the vineyard, the moonlight highlighting his jaw and glinting off his green eyes. I love this man. Of course, I want to marry him. But do I want to do it now? What happens if I say yes? What happens if I say no?

"I'll wait for you. If you say you're not ready. But, please, don't say no. Say someday."

I reach out and stroke his cheek. "Edward, I love you so much. I never dreamed I'd be getting proposed to in a vineyard at this stage of my life, but I also never imagined you'd be part of my life. You're right. I'm not ready to get married; the idea terrifies me, but you're also right that life is for living not for putting off until tomorrow." My hand trembles as I take the ring box from him and open it.

"It was my grandmother's," he whispers. "It may need to be resized, but I thought it was perfect for you." And it is. Instead of the usual diamond, there's a single emerald, glinting a perfect green, reminding me of his eyes. It's surrounded by a row of delicate diamonds that just seem to throw the light at it, making it shimmer and sparkle at me even in the dim moonlight that surrounds us.

"It's beautiful," I say.

"Just like you," he whispers back.

I slip it onto the fourth finger of my left hand. "It fits perfectly," I say, admiring how it seems to belong there, like my finger was made to wear it.

"Bella," says Edward, drawing my attention back to him. "I'm dying here. I need an answer. Will you marry me?" I frown. He's been kneeling in the dirt for ages. His knee must be in agony.

I sink down to my knees in front of him and cradle his face in my hands. "Of course, I'll marry you. I love you."

I don't get any more out. His lips are on mine. There's a hunger there, but also a reverence, as if he can't believe I'm still here.

His lips move away, and he pulls me in for a tight embrace. "Thank fuck for that," I hear him mumble. "God, I love you."

We kiss some more until the cold earth finally makes us both stand, a little stiff from kneeling so long. He leads me straight to his car, and as we drive home, we're both silent, our hands joined as he gentle plays with the ring on my finger, and with me contemplating all that the future may hold with this man. A stranger who I fucked in an elevator, who has turned out to be my everything.

That night, we do make love all night, but there is no teasing. Just caresses, lingering looks, and whispered words, and for the first time in my life, I truly feel like I'm making love.

The end.

* * *

 **A/N:** So that's the end of the main story. I'm not marking it complete yet as there is an Epi and future take hot on the heals of this chapter that I think help to wrap it up.

But I feel it is time to make my thanks. Obviously I need to thank the wonderful beta Alice's White Rabbit for all she has done for this story. I'm no expert on grammar, although I'm learning, or at least attempting to, and she is always there with advice and the correct way to go. I don't think I'll ever get all my commas in the correct places! But, thankfully, she's always there waiting to insert them just where they needed.

And thanks to all of you who have read, reviewed or recommended this story. To hear your words of encouragement has really kept me going. I know my posting schedule became a little erratic, but every time I posted, there you were letting me know your thoughts. Special thanks to those who followed me from the beginning of this story when it was an entry for the Control, Possess, Seduce contest. I never thought I'd get so many people reading my words and it amazes me every day.

Don't forget, I still have the EPOV version of this story, The Girl with the Sugar Lips, to finish, and I'll get back to that as soon as this is marked complete. I'm them looking at getting several chapters of a new story written over the summer, but I need to get a lot of it under my belt before I start to post so that I don't keep you waiting for updates, so there may be a little break before I start to post a new story.


	21. Chapter 21

**The Man in the Elevator - Epilogue**

It's been about a year and a half since Edward, Mr. Cullen, My Elevator Man, and I officially became an item. It's been a wonderful, glorious year but also, at times, a trying and difficult year. Edward can be moody and temperamental, but he can also be caring and thoughtful.

One particularly stressful time was the anniversary of Edward's first wife's death. Five years. Quite a milestone. It turns out, though, it was more stressful for me than it was for him. He was a little quiet and contemplative, but he didn't withdraw into himself, or, as I'd expected, become angry and bitter. He also didn't become regretful about the past, which was the fear that had been causing me the most anxiety. I expected him to push me away, to feel the guilt of moving on, but he explain to me how he had nothing to feel guilty over. How Lisa had always pushed him to move on after her death, and how he'd talked to her about it, on her birthday, earlier in the year. He explained how much Lisa would have liked me, how, when he was at her graveside, he had experienced an overwhelming sense of release.

I asked to accompany him and his parents to her graveside, and he happily agreed. Once there, I requested a few moments alone with her, and, after kissing me gently on the forehead, Edward, along with Esme and Carlisle, retreated to a bench a little way off.

For a while, I was at a loss for what to say. But, I knew I needed to lay a few of my own demons to bed, just as Edward had done on her birthday, but I was unsure where to start. What do you say to the spirit of a dead woman whose husband you love?

"Hi, I'm Bella. I think Edward's told you a little about me." I reached out and touched the top of the gravestone, suddenly feeling a little foolish. Huffing, I sat down on the dry ground and picked at a few weeds that were starting to poke their heads above the earth around the base of her stone.

"I'm not sure if I should be asking your permission to be with him or your forgiveness." Fuck, what do I say? "I love him, you know. And I'll always try to be the best I can for him. I'm sorry you had to die so I could find my happy ever after. That sucks. But I hope you're in a better place now. A place where you can be free of pain. Everyone deserves a second chance at happiness, and I hope I'm his. Esme seems to think I'm good for him, and Emmett and Rosalie too. I know they were your friends as well as Edward's, so I'm sure their approval must hold some sway with you."

I suddenly felt a strong hand around my waist, and I was pulled back against my favorite chest, finding myself embraced by his scent as well as his arms.

"She would have more than approved. If they have any say in these things from the other side, I'm sure she was up there pushing us together." His breath was warm against my ear, and I couldn't help the shiver that snakes down my spine. "When she was dying, I hated her talking about my life after she was gone. I struggled to imagine it. But she did. She wanted me to move on, to find happiness again.

"She'd joke that it would take someone extremely special to capture my heart again, but when I found that person, I wasn't to let them go. I told her I'd never find someone as perfect for me as her, and she just laughed. But you know what, Bella? I have. My relationship with Lisa was good, but like every relationship, like our relationship even, it had its ups and downs, but what made us good was that we talked through our issues and never forgot we loved each other. It's taken me a while, but I think _our_ relationship has reached that point. I've learned to trust you, to share my thoughts with you, both the good and bad. Lisa was the right person for me when I was young, but you, Bella, you're the right person for me now. You're the one who can pull me out of a downward spiral when I'm about to disappear up my own ass. You're the one who can make me forget the office after a stressful day with just a look. You're the one who can make me leave work early, just so I can see her naked.

"And, Bella, as my ex-wife instructed, now I've got you, I'm not letting you go. Marry me, Bella?"

I raised my eyebrows, turning to look at him over my shoulder. "Haven't we already had this conversation?" I held up my ring finger, flashing the emerald ring I'd worn for the previous eight months. "I seem to remember saying yes."

"But since then we've not done a thing about it. I want us to set the date. I want to marry you now. I know I said I'd wait, but life is short, Bella."

"Are we really having this conversation while we're sitting by your late wife's grave?" I looked back at him. The lopsided smirk on his face was broad and made his eyes twinkle.

"I believe we are, Miss Swan." And then he grew serious. "I'd not planned on pushing you on this, especially not today, but after that speech, it just seemed the right moment to discuss this. I'm sick of waiting to call you Mrs. Cullen, of being able to announce to the world that you're mine."

I'm lost for words. It was true I hadn't done a thing about marrying him. I was perfectly happy just being engaged. I'd recently given up my flat after I realized I'd not slept there in over a month, so I knew not much would change in my day-to-day life if we were to tie the knot, but still, something seemed to hold me back. I looked back at the grave. Life _was_ short. Sometimes shorter than you expected, and who knew what the future held. It was time to move forward.

I looked back at him and leaned in for a kiss, pressing my lips to his and enjoying the feelings he never failed to ignite. I held him tight as I did, and he pulled me close to him. The kiss started out chaste but quickly grew passionate. When I finally pulled away to breath, I was panting and wanting more.

"This is probably not the most appropriate thing to be doing here," I said, looking over my shoulder at the resting place of the first Mrs. Edward Cullen.

"You're probably right," he agreed. "I need to get you somewhere private so I can get these clothes off you and get you screaming my name. But first, I need an answer, Sugar Lips. You're killing me here. Can we set a date and start to plan?"

I smiled broadly at him and rose to my feet before starting to saunter away.

I heard his feet hastily following me before he grabbed me around the waist. "I've told you before, you don't get to run, walk, or even crawl away from me anymore. Now give me an answer, woman."

"How could you even doubt it would be a yes? You had me from the moment you seduced me in that elevator, and you will have me for the rest of eternity if I have anything to say on the matter. And if you want to make if official, I'm happy to do that as soon as we're able."

As I finished, I felt my legs being lifted off the ground. Edward spun me around, the biggest smile I'd ever seen plastered across his face. It felt good to make him happy, but most of all, it felt good to be happy together. We laughed and joked our way back to his apartment—our apartment—and we proceeded to seal the deal by making love for the rest of the weekend.

We paused only long enough to respond to Esme's text letting us know they had eaten without us at the restaurant, and after telling her the good news that she could start looking at venues and tasting cake, we turned off our mobiles, not wanting to be disturbed by the multitude of calls and texts she was bound to send our way.

And now, here I stand, in a silly frock, waiting to walk down the aisle of this adorable little chapel in Texas. No, it's not my wedding, not yet anyway. It turns out that no matter how quickly Edward wants to get me sharing his name, Esme and Alice have different ideas, and they informed him they could not possibly plan the wedding we deserve in less than a year. We ended up letting them just get on with things. Neither of us having the time to plan it ourselves. Edward still works as hard as always and things have kicked off big time at my work. The new division of Rosalie's I'd joined has more work than it can handle. In fact, I'm in the process of recruiting my own team so I can work alongside Rosalie and the company can handle twice the workload.

No, I'm here today in my capacity as bridesmaid to one of my best friends. Alice is standing next to me, and she keeps making adjustments to my dress. I know she wishes she'd had time to design and make them herself, but the next best thing in her eyes is to ensure they are customized to suit her individual style and our personalities. She makes some last-minute adjustments to Angela's dress too, and then she turns to look at her own dress in the full-length mirror. Despite it not being one of a kind, it suits her perfectly. It's slim and elegant, flowing and chic. She looks radiant, the epitome of the blushing bride, and, as she wished, her bump is not visible in the slightest. That growing bump being the reason for the rushed wedding. She insisted no child of hers was being born to an unwed mother, but there was also no way she was getting married looking like a beached whale. So, she planned and executed this wedding in three weeks with the help of her fiancé's family in whose small town the ceremony is taking place.

"I think I'm ready," she says, turning to us with a broad smile on her face. It's one she's worn almost constantly since meeting Agent Jasper Whitlock during James' and Victoria's trials. It's been a whirlwind romance, but everyone could see how well suited they both are to each other. I'm going to miss my right-hand woman at work during her maternity leave, but I know Alice will be back. She loves designing too much.

She's not the only one of my friends to have beaten me and Edward to the alter. Just over three months ago, Ben asked Angela the big question. He, of course, did it in a way that suited Ang completely. He took her away for a fun-packed weekend in Vegas. As she played the slots, he slipped the ring into her cup. She tells us she was so caught up in the excitement of the game she almost put the ring right in the machine but noticed just in time. Apparently, she gave the loudest scream, making those around her think she'd won the jackpot, which she claimed she had. I got a call that night demanding I get my ass down there: STAT. Once she explained it all, Edward and I got on the next plane and joined them as their witnesses the following evening for their spontaneous Vegas wedding, complete with Elvis impersonator.

"How do I look," Alice asks, turning in my direction.

"Beautiful," I reply. "He's a lucky man."

"Too right he is," she says, smiling broadly. "Let's get this show on the road." She takes her dad's arm and pushes me and Angela out into chapel. Our men are standing in matching tuxedos, waiting to escort us down the aisle. The two to them have become unlikely friends over the last few months, Edward even putting the money up for Ben to purchase his own bar. It's currently being renovated by McCarty Construction but should be open soon.

After walking down the aisle, I move to my position at the front of the chapel, on the bride's side, and Edward takes his place on Jasper's side. Ang and Ben soon join us, then everyone turns to the back of the room as Alice gracefully enters. All eyes are on her, but I can't help glancing across at my man. I catch him looking my way also, and the smirk he throws me I'm sure mirrors my own. I still can't get enough of him. We officially live together now, and I still see his mother every week at the hospital. The charity has also really kicked off, and Mrs. Cope is now working full-time, organizing the volunteers and the patients. Talking of the charity, Jake is now in remission and has been for the past six months. His hair is growing back, but he's keeping it short as he says his girlfriend prefers it that way. He says she likes to run her fingers over the short, bristly hairs. He was very serious when he informed me they were going serious, wanting to break it to me gently that I was no longer his number one girl. I just hope this is his last time to fight this battle.

The ceremony flies by without a hitch, and pretty soon, we're all making our way to the reception venue.

I take my seat next to my elevator man, and he pulls me in for a kiss. His lips leave mine and head back toward my ear. I love it when he kisses my neck, but this could soon get out of hand.

"I'm getting sick of attending other people's weddings," he almost growls. "How much longer do I have to wait to see you walk down the aisle to _me_ and tell _me_ you do?"

I can understand his frustrations. There seem to have been a lot of setbacks to our original plans.

"Another four months and fifteen days." Not that I'm counting down or anything.

"Too long, Sugar Lips," he growls. "What do I have to do to move that time frame up?"

Is he serious? I pull back to look him in the eye, but there's no sign he's joking.

"It's the earliest they could get the venue. Apparently, The Arlington Hotel is the only place with a room large enough for all our guests, and it did seem appropriate to get married in the same place you first told me how you felt about me."

"Even if it is also the place we were both shot?"

"You agreed to this, Edward."

"I can't think why now. Remind me again why this needs to be such a show, and we have to invite so many guests? Our friends seem to have been able to pull off small weddings."

"But our friends aren't such pillars of society, Edward. Apparently, we can't offend any of your major clients by not inviting them, and then there are your key employees and their spouses."

"So, it's my fault?" He sounds almost apologetic.

I just shrug. His side of the mammoth guest list is considerably larger than mine.

"And tell me again why we didn't just elope like Angela and Ben?"

"Because my dad would never forgive us. Or more correctly, he'd never forgive you."

"There has to be a way around this. Throw money at the venue, or bribe someone to change their date with us. There has to be a way. I'm good at solving problems. I'm good at making what I want happen."

I didn't know he was getting this frustrated. For a while, I'd been thinking things were getting out of hand, but I thought it was what he wanted. I know we'd both hoped for a summer wedding, but prior bookings had made that impossible, so we'd had to settle for November. And everything seemed to escalate from there. He'd not objected, but then I suppose I'd not either, just going along with Esme and Alice at each step as they talked about decorations, favors, six-tier cakes, flowers, dresses, hair and makeup, wedding singers and DJs, vows, and a multitude of other things I really didn't care enough about to remember. I mean, who cares if the tables are round or long? In groups of six or eight? It was really turning into a show. But I can't see what we can do about it at this stage.

I'm pulled out of my reverie as we're joined at our table by Angela, Ben, Rosalie, and Emmett, and I put our predicament to the back of my mind, enjoying Alice's big day.

However, it would appear Edward hasn't let the issue lie. As we make it back to our hotel room later that night, he pushes me up against the door, but instead of pushing his body up against mine and attacking me with his mouth, he instead starts to talk.

"Have invites gone out for the wedding yet?"

"No, we sent out save the date cards but no actual invitations yet. Why?"

"Good, we won't have to uninvited people. We're getting married in six weeks."

"What? How?" I splutter.

"Do you really want a huge wedding with loads of people you hardly know?"

"Well, no," I reply, "but I don't want to offend people. I don't want your business to suffer because people feel snubbed."

"They won't feel snubbed if none of them are invited and it's just a small family affair."

"But everything's planned. Alice and Esme have worked so hard. We can't go changing things at this stage, and besides, where would we find to host it at this short notice?"

"We can do what we want, Bella. It's _our_ wedding. Alice had the wedding she wanted. Angela and Ben had their idea of the perfect wedding. You're entitled to yours too. Tell me, when you thought of how your wedding would be, is this circus what you imagined?"

He had me there. I quietly shake my head.

"Tell me, Bella; tell me how you imagined your perfect day?"

His voice is soft, and I realize we've never really talked about it. Once we'd given Esme the go ahead to plan our day, things just seemed to snowball until it was totally out of control.

I think about the sort of day I'd envisaged when I'd first said yes to Edward.

"I'd imagined being surrounded by our close friends and family. I'd pictured an outdoor wedding on a beautiful, sunny day. I'd imagined myself doing something as ridiculous as going barefoot—the only way to ensure I won't trip—rather than wearing those ridiculous heels Alice has selected for me. I'd have flowers in my hair, and I'd get to dance with you under the stars." I'd always thought I didn't care what my wedding was like as long as I was marrying the man I loved, but as I talked, I realized I cared a whole lot more than I'd allowed myself to believe.

"That's a beautiful picture, Bella. I'm going to make that a reality for you, if it's the last thing I do."

"But, Edward, there's no way we could find a venue and organize a wedding in six weeks. We have a cake to be made, flowers to order, and invites to send out."

"I have the venue sorted. How do you feel about getting married at the vineyard? Sheila and George have agreed to host us if it suits you. And Sheila has a friend who has offered to make the cake, if you just describe to her what you want, but I like chocolate, if that helps at all?" He smiles mischievously. "How is Alice getting on with your dress?"

"It's practically finished," I confess. "But she's not even started on the bridesmaid's dresses."

"As far as I'm concerned, they can wear sack cloths. I'll only be looking at you, Sugar Lips. But I'm sure they won't mind buying off the rack. Hell, I'll shell out for designer frocks from Paris for the two of them if it'll get you down the aisle sooner. The rest, well, between you, me, Alice, Angela, and my mom, we should be able to organize it."

"You're serious, aren't you?"

"As a heart attack. I'm making this happen, Bella, even if it upsets a few people. We are having _our_ wedding, when and how _we_ want it."

TMITE

True to his word, six weeks later, I find myself standing just inside the winery, looking out at the fabulous view before me. The backdrop is as spectacular as the first time I saw it, the rows of vines full of grapes and greenery. There was a short shower earlier in the day, which helped to clear the air, and now the sun is shining, lighting up the scene in the foreground. From here, I can see the backs of our friends and family. No business acquaintances, no customers, just people whom we both know personally.

I look down at my slightly simplified dress. Alice, much to her annoyance, has had to shorten it, and I'd also made her adjust the shirt, giving it a much simpler line and allowing me to go barefoot, as promised. She and Angela are standing next to me in complimenting dresses. Both are ones they can wear again, both matched to them and totally different from each other. My accessories are simple. I have flowers in my hair, holding up a veil that flows down my back, and I'm wearing my swan necklace for the last time I will be a swan.

"Not long now."

I turn to see my father and smile at him nervously. "You doing all right?" he asks.

"Yeah, just a little anxious to get started."

"Before we do, there's something I need to give you. Come, sit with me a moment."

He takes my arm and leads me to a sofa. I perch nervously, sensing a tension in him.

"I've been debating the best time to give you this and, to be honest, today's been so busy, this is the first opportunity I've gotten." He reaches into his inside breast pocket and pulls out an envelope. He fingers it reverently for a moment before he hands it to me. My name is written on the front in a handwriting that looks familiar, but I can't quite place.

"It's from your mom."

I give a small gasp.

"She asked me to give it to you today, along with this." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a beautiful hair comb. It's a blue that accents my flowers. "She wore it the day we got married, her something blue and old I think. Her mother wore it before her when she married your grandpops. Your mom wanted you to have a bit of her as you walked down the aisle. She wanted to feel like she could be here in some small way."

I'm lost for words as he reaches up and slides the comb into my curls, hitching up a small portion of my hair into my veil. "Beautiful." He smiles at me. "Do you want me to leave you alone while you read that?"

I look down at the note in my hand and shake my head. I may need my dad for this.

I take a deep breath, and then I carefully open the envelope, sliding out the crisp piece of paper from within.

I start to read, but I can't get past the first line as my vision blurs. I wipe feverishly at my eyes to clear them, but it's no good, more tears keep coming. I hand the paper to Charlie. "Please, could you read it to me?" He takes it and starts to read. At first his voice is hesitant, but he soon gets into his stride, and I can almost hear my mother saying the words to me.

 _My dearest Bella,_

 _If you're reading this, I now you are about to make someone extremely happy. I'm sorry I can't be there with you, but I imagine you look radiant. It's on days like this that mothers traditionally pass on their advice. Giving you hints and tips on what makes a good marriage. Well here's my attempt:_

 _Above all else, talk to him. If you're annoyed, sad, or downright pissed off, explain to him why. And be clear. He's a man, and they don't understand subtle hints. Tell him straight. I'm sure Charlie will back me up on this one._

Charlie chuckles "She's right. And she never held back in letting me know when I'd messed up."

He looks back down at the paper and continues to read

 _But you also need to tell him when your happy, share with him the things that excite you, let him know when he's done things right. Thank him, every day, even if it's just for bringing you a mug of coffee. Never take him for granted. And never let him take you for granted._

 _On that front, no matter what he or your father may claim, men are not genetically incapable of working the washing machine or the iron. Your father tried that one when we were newly married. He soon learned the error of not sharing chores evenly._

 _Finally, enjoy your special day, and tell Charlie to go easy on him from me. I'm sure if you've chosen him, he's a very special man. Cherish him._

 _With all my heart and love,_

 _Your mom._

Dad looks up to see the tears streaming down my face. He quickly reaches into his pocket for a handkerchief before pulling me in for a hug. He doesn't say anything, and he doesn't need to.

We are interrupted by a knock on the door, and Angela cautiously sticks her head in.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but the groom is getting anxious about the delay. What would you like me to tell him?"

I pull back from Charlie, wiping my face. "Just give me a moment, Ang, then I'll be ready to go."

She looks at me skeptically. "That face is going to need a serious touch-up, and we need to get those puffy eyes down. This is going to take longer than five minutes." She looks suspiciously at Charlie.

"Hey," he protests. "For one, I've been trying to have a word with her all morning, and you've not let me near, and secondly, it was her mother's fault not mine."

I laugh through my tears.

"I suppose you're forgiven then. I'll just get Ben to let Edward know there's no need to worry, and we'll be out soon." She calls back over her shoulder as she goes to leave, "Alice! Serious touch- work needed on the bride; Charlie made her cry. Thank God for waterproof mascara,"

Alice quickly appears. "Oh, dear," she says as she takes me in.

"Is it really that bad," I ask, worried.

"No! It's fine. Won't take me more than five minutes to sort you out." Her words say one thing, but her face says another.

"You _can_ sort it though?"

"Oh, God, yeah. Of course." And with that, she goes to work on me—cold water, creams, foundation, concealer. I forget all she actually does to make me look less like a blotchy, swollen cry-fest victim and more like a happy, radiant bride about to tie herself to her soul mate. And it only takes her ten minutes. Then I find myself, once again, alone with Charlie, my two friends having made their way past our guests on the arms of their husbands. Now it's my turn to make the walk, on the arm of my father, in order to be joined with my husband. To say I'm nervous would be an understatement. It suddenly feels like a big step.

Charlie squeezes my hand. "Ready, kiddo?"

I take a deep breath, nodding my head slightly. He leads me out of the building, and I see everyone's head turn to look in my direction. I look past them to the end of my short journey, and there he is. My Elevator Man, my Edward. My nerves disappear, and suddenly, I can't get to the front of this aisle quick enough, can't be through with this ceremony fast enough. I can't wait to be his wife. Our eyes lock, and I see the stress melt from his features, to be replaced with the most magnificent smile.

I start to speed up, and it's only Charlie's grip on my arm that prevents me from hitching up my skirt and running to him.

We reach the front eventually, and Charlie passes my hand over to Edward, and I step close, looking up into his eyes.

"Are you okay? I was worried. They said you'd been crying?" His voice is low, meant only for me.

"I'm okay now. Charlie gave me a letter from my mom," I explain.

He looks at me with concern in his eyes and runs the pad of his thumb across the apple of my cheek. "I wish she could have been here. I'd loved to have met her."

I suddenly have an overwhelming urge to kiss him. So I do. Just a light kiss. Not any more than a peck really, our lips gently brushing. But then it's more. So much more. He returns it with all the passion I know he feels for me, and I'm soon lost in the moment, allowing his tongue to slide between my lips.

"Ahem" I'm bought back to the real world by the officiant clearing his throat. "That usually comes at the end of the ceremony," he jokes as I hide my scarlet face in Edward's cheek, and I hear Emmett give a loud, raucous laugh.

The rest if the ceremony passes in a blur. I vaguely remembered saying my vows and slipping a ring onto Edward's finger after he'd done the same to me. And then, I'm allowed to kiss him again. And kiss him I do to calls of "get a room," from Emmett.

The reception after seems to go on forever, with photos, and food, and cake, and speeches, and first dances. It's not long after our first dance that Edward leans in close. "Are you ready to get out of here, Mrs. Cullen?" He's been calling me that all evening, and I've secretly been loving it.

"Is it not considered bad form to be the first to leave your own wedding?"

"I don't care. I just want to get you alone as quickly as I can." He's nuzzling my neck as he talks, and it's doing a lot to convince me to comply.

"Alice has an outfit I'm supposed to change into when we leave."

"No way! For one, you are not leaving my side, and secondly, I'm the one taking you out of this dress. You would not believe the things it's doing to me seeing you like this as my bride."

That settles it. We're leaving now. This minute.

We hastily gather our loved ones for final goodbyes and more than a few curious questions about us leaving so early. We bluff our way through them with talk of early flights and being tired after such an emotional day but don't let us leaving stop the party, after all, the bar tab is still open. I think this has convinced people until Emmett, in his usual tactful manner, shouts out, "They just want to get off so they can consummate their marriage. Remember, Bella's been at Charlie's the last few days."

My face flushes red, and I turn to face my father. "I don't want to know. You may be married now, but you're still my little girl."

I just smile and hug him.

And then we're off, driving at top speed toward the luxury hotel near the airport where we'll be spending out first night together as husband and wife.

After Edward checks us in as Mr. And Mrs. Cullen, which gives me a huge thrill, we head to the elevators.

"What floor?" I ask, looking at the long list of numbers. This building sure is tall.

"You have to use the key card," he says before placing the credit card-sized piece of plastic against the reader.

The elevator starts to ascend, and I start to feel a buzz in the air. This feels so familiar. Alone with him in an elevator. I look up and see him watching me, a predatory glint in his eye.

"I don't think I can wait a moment longer," he practically growls at me. And then, before I can blink, he has me up against the wall, his hands in my hair, running down my sides, up my neck. I respond instantly. It's a quick elevator, but he's an expert at getting me aroused. Too soon, I hear the sound of the elevator arriving at its destination. I groan in frustration. We'll have to finish this inside. He steps back slightly as the doors start to open and picks up one of our bags. I start to slide past him, eager to get to the room as soon as possible.

"Where do you think you're going," he says, pulling me back as he drops the case between the doors, preventing them from closing.

He holds me in place as his lips find my neck. I'm almost lost to the sensations, but a small voice in the back of my head is protesting. Do I really want the memory if my first time with my husband to be marred by a stranger interrupting us?

"Edward, we can't. Someone might come."

"No one is coming, Sugar Lips. There's only one suite on this floor, and that's ours. We're all alone."

As he talks, I feel his hands gradually pulling my dress up my thighs until it's bunched around my hips.

"Hold that up," he demands, and I grab the bunched-up material as he sinks down on crouched knees until his face is level with the top of my thighs. "I've been desperate to find out what you've been wearing under this dress all day." His fingers skim over the top of my garters, giving the straps of the garter belt a small twang. "And you do not disappoint."

He buries his head under my skirt where I'm wearing lacy white panties. I hear him inhale my scent. "Very virginal," he mutters, the vibrations of his voice resonating through the material of my underwear to my core. "Are you still trying to pull off that innocent look?" He glances up at me, and I'm just able to see his playful smirk around the folds of my bunched-up skirt. "We both know that's not true, don't we?"

His face turns serious. "The dress and the stockings are staying on, but these need to go." He wraps his long fingers around the edge of the offending item and pulls until I hear the ripping of the delicate lace. They'd cost me a fortune at the high-end lingerie store Alice had dragged me to, but at this moment, I don't care.

"If I had my way, and I thought you'd obey me, I'd order you to not wear underwear on this whole trip." I giggle at the disgust evident in his voice. I'm not going to tell him, but I've hardly packed any panties, figuring he'd want quick and easy access.

I don't have long to linger on this, though, as I feel his tongue flick out and take an exploratory taste before getting to serious work. It's been four days since we've been together, and I've missed him. I've missed this.

He takes me quickly to the edge then pulls back. I groan, desperate for my release.

"Patience, Mrs. Cullen. Your first orgasm as my wife is going to be with you wrapped around my cock." As he talks, he stands, takes a step back, and watches me as I try to regain some composure. He slowly starts to undo his fly.

"This is going to be fast and hard. They will probably want their elevator back soon." He takes one last look down my body and back up again. "I fucking love you in this dress. But it's coming off the minute I get you in that room."

"Stop talking and fuck me already," I complain.

I don't get long to take in his answering smirk before his lips are on mine. Seducing me. Controlling me. Possessing me.

And I'm all his. I wrap my legs around him, allowing him to support my weight as he slides slowly inside me. One hand grips me at the waist, the other pulls one of my hands up above by head, pinning me in place. He pauses for the briefest of moments before his pelvis starts its relentless grind. With each thrust, he pivots his hips, creating divine friction against my clit. I was close before he started; I'm right on the edge now.

"Let me hear what I'm doing to you," he growls in my ear, and I let out a long groan as he pushes in harder.

"I can't take any more. I'm going to explode. I'm going to come."

"Then do. Let me feel you. I want you to come so hard I can hardly move in you."

And I see stars. My whole body tenses, my legs locking tight around his hips, and wave after wave of euphoria rocks through me. I let my head fall back against the elevator wall, and I release a long cry. It's primal and comes from deep in my gut. This is my man, and this is what he does to me. I'm vaguely aware of him joining me in my exclamation of release as his body stiffens too and then relaxes. I'm also vaguely aware of being lifted, bridal style, and our bags being rather unceremoniously kicked from the elevator. The next I know, I'm being placed on the softest bed I've ever laid on.

"Hmmmm," I hum, stretching out. "I could get used to this."

"You'd have no arguments from me," he replies, crawling up my body and slowly kissing my lips. "Now you're officially Mrs. Cullen."

He kisses me again, slowly and tenderly. I run my hands through the short hairs at the back if his neck. "Who would have thought that first encounter would have led us here."

He smiles. "In some ways, we've not changed much, have we? I still can't keep my hands off you, but in other ways, we've come so far."

"Both of us," I concede. "But now we've reached our destination."

He shakes his head. "Just a way-stop. We have so many more adventures in front of us, but we'll take them together, changing and adapting as life throws us new challenges, and hopefully some great opportunities, but always together. Never behind closed doors, never a secret again."

There is only one reply.

"I love you, Mr. Cullen, my Elevator Man."

"And I love you too, Mrs. Cullen, my Sugar Lips."

* * *

 **A/N: So that's it. Completed. I still have one small, fun future take to go. I'm also planning on finishing off The Girl with the Sugar Lips (the EPOV sister story). So I'm not going anywhere, and I should be able to update more often now the school is about to break up for the summer. I will also be working on a new story, so I'll be back.**

 **Thanks you's go out to everyone who has read, reviewed and recommended this story. Those who followed it from the initial competition entry, and those who have found it since. Talking of which, I must thank the organizers of the Control, Possess, Seduce Contest, especially the hosts Nicffwhisperer and CarrieZM. Thanks for giving me the inspiration to write this story. Thanks also to Jennifer Jennings for her amazing banner**

 **And the biggest thanks to to Alice's White Rabbit. She is always there with encouragement and her red pen. This story would not be talk the story it is without her. I look forward to working with her in the future.**


	22. Chapter 22

**The Man in the Elevator – Future take**

My team and I step out of the elevator on to the 27th floor. This is our biggest job to date and, despite my confidence in my team and our proposal, I must confess I'm nervous, but I'm determined not to show it.

The snotty looking PA looks up from her computer, a disinterested expression on her face.

"McCarty Construction. We have an appointment."

She glances down at her screen, as if she needs to check that our appointment is valid, but I know she's the sort who has his schedule memorized.

She looks back up with a scowl. "He's expecting you. Follow me." She leads us the short distance down the corridor, despite me knowing the way like the back of my hand and her knowing this.

A brief knock on the door, followed by a sharp, "Enter," has her announcing our arrival and ushering us into the room.

He is sitting behind his large imposing desk, his three VPs opposite him. As we enter, he rises from his plush, black office chair and walks around to great us, his lips curled up in a lopsided smirk. "Ms. Swan, welcome. Your proposal was very interesting. We look forward to hearing more."

"Thank you. Let me introduce my team."

I introduce Alice, even though he knows her well, as well as the other members of my ever-expanding team. In fact, this is only a proportion of the people I now manage, but it's my "A" team, my top people. Only the best for this project.

"Please, take a seat," he says, directing us toward the large boardroom table that I can attest to being very sturdy.

I take my position in the center of one side, my team positioning themselves around me. He sits down directly opposite, his team around him.

"So, Ms. Swan, what exactly can you do for me." I smirk across at him. There is plenty I could do for him, and he knows it. But this is business, and I'm a professional. I won't let his little games put me off.

"Let me present to you our vision for the future working environment of Cullen Masen Holdings."

With that, I launch into my well-prepared presentation, setting out for him how we plan to transform his new, expanded headquarters into the innovative office space a company like CMH deserves and requires. I point out the features that have been shown, in several studies, to increase productivity as well as increase worker engagement and satisfaction. The design incorporates many safety features I know will keep Embry happy. Each member of my team seamlessly answers all his and his team's questions with confidence, despite me knowing several of them were a little intimidated at the prospect of meeting him; his reputation, as always, going before him.

It's a great proposition. We know it, and more importantly, they know it too.

Once we've finished, he looks across at me, his fingers steepled, all business. "I won't deny it's a good proposal. It's inventive, cutting-edge, but also us. You've thought about our needs, and I can't fault the thoroughness of your design, but your quote is significantly more than several of the others we've received. It seems an awfully large premium to pay for a few gimmicks."

So here comes the hard ball. I knew it was coming. He's known for it. But I'm prepared.

"Mr. Cullen, you know as well as I do that what we've presented to you today is not just some fancy gimmicks. If CMH wants to be seen as one of the best employers, if you want to recruit and retain the best employees, you have to offer the best, and to be honest, that's what we're offering you. And the best doesn't come cheap. Look again at the productivity figures I've shown you. With the increase in retention, reduced HR costs in addition to these figures, you should be getting a significant payback on the extra you will be paying up front."

"The cost is still too high," he says, throwing the proposal he was looking at down on the table dismissively. "If you can drop ten percent off that cost, we may have a deal, but without that, I'm sorry this meeting is over."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, I had hoped that giving CMH this opportunity to work with us would have led to future projects together, but, as I'm sure you are aware, we have other projects we can be working on. If cost is your only consideration, I'm sure one of our competitors will be more than willing to do the job for you, but then, of course, you don't get to brag that you have a McCarty-designed office."

We stare each other down for a moment. Then I start to pack up my things. My team looks at me, shocked, but then start to follow my lead.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Cullen. I wish you all the luck in getting the office set up that works for you. Now if you'll excuse me, we have a meeting with Mr. Thompson over at Zentak; it would appear we may now have time to work on his office, as we won't be working here."

"Zentak is looking to renovate their offices?"

"That is the rumor. He's requested a personal meeting to discuss his plans. Obviously, if my team is busy on a very large project, we would be unable to do that work for him too."

"Five percent, Ms. Swan. Knock five percent off and I'll sign now." I'm on the way to the door; my back is turned to him. I smile. I've got him. I stop and slowly turn around.

"Please, don't insult me, Mr. Cullen. You know this is a very fair price for the service we offer. You either pay that price or we leave. We're busy people; we have more work than we can handle. You sign today at that price or the number increases by 10% should you change your mind after this meeting."

He practically growls at me. I know he wants us, and he knows I know this. We're the best, and he likes to get the best.

"Fine, Ms. Swan. You win. This one. Give me the paperwork."

I hand it over graciously, and he signs.

"I presume you can start straight away?"

"Of course, sir," I say, looking straight at him as I bite down on my bottom lip. He narrows his eyes. He knows I know exactly what my words and actions do to him.

I turn slowly and lead my team out of the office and toward the elevators. His three VPs follow, discussing some of the finer points of the design with members of my team, mainly concerning their own offices, I notice. But that's what we offer—a truly personalized service.

We're just about to get into the elevator when I hear him. "Ms. Swan, I don't suppose you have a moment. There are one or two details about my personal office I wanted to discus with you. A couple changes I may need to make."

I hold open the elevator door.

"Well, Alice is our main designer, and she will be personally taking charge of your office, Mr. Cullen." I turn to her. "Alice, would you mind staying to talk to Mr. Cullen about his needs?"

She looks at me and narrows her eyes. She knows he doesn't want to talk to her just as well as I do. "But I have that other appointment today, Ms. Swan," she says before turning to Mr. Cullen. "I'm afraid I'll have to meet with you another time to iron out the changes, but then that may lead to delays if there are any significant changes." She sounds genuinely disappointed she won't be able to talk over the design with him. She really is a good actor. "The only solution I can see is if you discuss the changes with Ms. Swan herself, and she can fill me in later. Would that work for you, Mr. Cullen?"

He looks my way. "That would certainly work for me. How about you, Ms. Swan?"

"I think I could make that work." I take my hand off the elevator door and start to walk toward him. "I'll see you all back at the office," I say over my shoulder.

As I walk away, I hear the door closing but not before I hear the newest member of our team, Alistair, stage whisper, "What meeting do you have? I thought we'd all kept the rest of the day free, so we could go and celebrate?"

"Shush," hisses back Alice. I just grin, looking my man up and down as I approach him. I hear a tut from his PA.

"I'll cancel your next appointment, Mr. Cullen," she says with an ever-suffering sigh.

"Make it the next three, Tanya. Ms. Swan and I have a lot to discuss."

Fuck, I'm in trouble. Hardball-playing Edward turns me on, but perhaps it doesn't go both ways. I step into his office, and I instantly know my thoughts couldn't have been further from the truth. I'm pushed up against the wall as he kicks his door shut.

"God, you're hot when you talk business. It was all I could do not to order everyone out of here and throw you over the boardroom table in the middle of your presentation."

"You're not cross with me for holding my ground? For not giving you a discount?" His lips are at my neck, his hands rubbing up and down my sides, and I must admit it's hard to concentrate, but I need to know we're still okay.

"Fuck, no. I've never been so turned on in a business meeting in my life. Or so proud. Besides, as you said, it's actually a good deal." His hand runs up my thigh, discovering my panty-less state. "Fuck me," he exclaims as he starts to explore between my legs. "If I'd known you were dressed like this under this sexy skirt, I'd never have made it through the meeting."

"Good job you didn't know then."

"Tell me one thing though, Isabella. Is Mr. Thomson really interested in your services?"

"That's something you will never know," I say with a smirk, following quickly with a loud moan as he pushes a finger deep inside me.

He pulls back to look me in the face. "I was right. You make a fucking formidable businesswoman. You're sure you won't consider coming back to work for me?"

The offer is tempting. Being in the same office as him every day and enjoying the perks that could no doubt come from just being able to nip upstairs to see him whenever I wanted. But then we'd probably both never get any work done. I shake my head. Besides, I love my job. Almost as much as I love him.

But I'm determined to make the most of working with him over the next few months, starting right now.

"There's only one position I'm interested in with you, Mr. Cullen, and it's one where I'm laying spread out on your boardroom table and you're fucking me senseless."

"Your wish is my command, Mrs. Cullen."

I cock an eyebrow as he lifts me, wrapping my legs around his waist, and starts to carry me across the office. "So, I'm Mrs. Cullen now, am I?"

"Too fucking right you are. You are my wife. You may have kept your name for business, but when we're together like this, you're Mrs. Cullen. You are mine, and don't you fucking forget it."

I still love it when he gets all domineering, even after five years together.

He lowers me onto the boardroom table. "I miss being able to do this," he says. "You know those big windows you want to put in my new office? They have to go." As he talks he slowly pushes into me. "I know the aim is to make me more approachable, but if we still want to be able to do this, Isabella, if you ever decide to visit me, and with the new office that much closer to yours, I hope you'll be able to visit me so much more often. And when you do, I want to be able to make you scream without half my employees watching." I can't believe he's talking about his new office while he slowly fucks me, moving in and out at an excruciatingly slow pace.

"Edward," I groan, "I really don't want to talk about work at the moment."

He smirks at me. "And what would you rather talk about, Sugar Lips." I love that he still uses his old nickname for me.

"I'd like to talk about how you're going to stop fucking teasing me and fuck me properly instead."

"Since you asked so nicely. Hold on, Bella, this is not going to be gentle." With that, he grabs my hips and thrusts into me hard and fast. I let out an involuntary cry and grip onto the edge of the table. This is us. Raw, passionate, insatiable. I can feel all the usual feelings building as he looks down on me, his movements become impossibly faster, harder, deeper. I'm so close, and the tension in his jaw tells me is too.

"Fuck, Bella, this feels as good as the first time. I'll never get tired of this. I'll never get tired of you. I so fucking love you." As he says the words, I cry out, clamping down hard around him, my release surging through my whole body. I'm vaguely aware of him thrusting once more before I hear him join my cry.

As we both come back to Earth, our breathing gradually returning to normal, I hear him mutter, "Sound-proofing too. My new office definitely needs sound-proofing."

* * *

 **A/N: So that was just a little bit of fun to cap things off. I hope you liked it.**


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